Christine and Michael: The College Years
by creativeangel89
Summary: Christine Booth and Michael Hodgins are both attending American University but years of name calling and jealousy have left their friendship a little on the frosty side. Can love blossom amongst classes, over protective parents and a few dead bodies?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Ok, so... this is my 4th fanfiction story. Hopefully if you guys like it, I will be motivated to see it through and keep uploading new chapters. I hope there are no spelling errors that I have missed but if there are, I apologise in advance! Review and tell me what you think. Enjoy!**

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Christine Booth collapsed on her new bed and winced as the mattress springs formed uncomfortable lumps beneath her. She sat up and arched her back, telling herself she would have to get used to many uncomfortable nights in this bed. She had just returned from freshman orientation and visited a few of the rooms where she would be taking classes in a couple of days, plus she'd sat through a tedious PowerPoint presentation about dining options and financial aid - she already felt exhausted. She had tried to memorise the layout of the campus earlier this morning but she'd given herself a headache and given up, instead opting to scope out the best places for coffee and return to the Anderson Building where she, like many of the other freshman, had been housed. Later on she would have to have her picture taken for her I.D pass, so she decided to add a little light make up and secure half of her hair up in the pretty, antique looking clip which had been a gift from her Aunty Angela. She turned on her laptop and whilst she waited for it to boot up, she took a few remaining photo frames from the last box she had started to unpack before she'd left her dorm earlier that day so she could place them on her desk beside her computer. She lightly blew dust off the largest picture frame which was silver and adorned with mother of pearl lavender flowers and dark green vine weaving itself all the way along the rectangular frame. She smiled at the memory the picture produced. She was fifteen years old wearing a light pink summer dress; her blue eyes shone and she smiled into the camera with a red flush dusting her cheeks and nose from sitting in the sun for too long the previous day. She had her arm draped around her mother's shoulders, whose identical blue eyes were slightly squinting from the sun and on her other side, her father's face was set in a huge grin as he stood with his own arm around her shoulders whilst he held a large bucket of shell's in his other hand. That picture had been taken three years ago on the beach in Fiji where she had been vacationing with her parents and she smiled as she remembered her father's mad dash towards her and her Mom after he'd set the timer on the camera. The next picture she set down was of her and her older brother Parker. She was six years old wearing a pair of denim shorts and a sunny yellow tee with little red rosebuds on it whilst sixteen-year-old Parker was smiling and had his arms around her shoulder's from behind whilst his curly hair flopped into his eyes. She set down the final picture which was smaller than the rest and showed her mother in a bright orange tunic with her hands on her huge round stomach smiling up at her father who had been taking the picture. Her Dad had told her that he had taken that picture 3 days before she was born. It was her favourite picture of her mother and before she had left for college, it had sat on her dresser in her bedroom at home. She turned to her computer and decided to check her email. The first one was from her mother's best friend; her Aunty Angela, asking if she had arrived safely and if Michael had stopped by her dorm room yet. She clicked the reply icon and wrote a brief description of her room and told Angela of her terribly boring morning and that she hadn't seen Michael yet. Thank God! Although she didn't include that last part. Michael was one of her least favourite people and had been since they were children. He had endlessly teased her when they had been younger and her dislike of him had carried on through pre-school to junior high, up until she was a freshman in high school and he had been a sophomore – that was when he had eventually just decided to ignore her. Of course neither her parents nor her Uncle Jack and Aunt Angela were aware of this fact since he went out of his way to be polite to her in front of them. _Creep!_ She thought. The very thought of Michael Hodgin's made her want to heave!

The second email was from Parker checking in and she took her time replying; filling him in on every detail and even adding a few lines about the rat, Michael, who hadn't shown up yet. She had just clicked send, when her roommate whom she had met the day before, burst in with a coffee in one hand and a stack of paper's in the other with a bag that looked so heavy on her shoulder that it almost caused her to walk lop-sided. "Hey Christine", she said dumping everything but her coffee onto her bed and sitting down. Rachel was, in stark contrast to Christine, short. She stood at about five feet two with a tangled mess of red curls, pale skin and a little button nose dusted with freckles. She was slim but shapely wearing a denim mini skirt and a pale blue shirt with the first few buttons open showing the thin white vest top she wore underneath. She had teamed it with a pair of trendy brown sandals that looped around her big toes that were painted a deep shade of red. She was a scatter brained sort of girl with huge hazel eyes and an easy smile. Christine had liked her instantly and was glad that she hadn't been roomed with a stuck up bitch like the skinny blonde, Megan, next door. "I was thinking we could grab some dinner in a while if you're up for it"?

"Sure but first I have to have my picture taken for my ID pass. You want to come with"?

An hour later the two girls stood anxiously in line wondering if their picture would turn out to be horrendous or just mildly awful. Each girl that had been in line before them plopped down onto the little stool only to be shocked by a quick flash before they had even positioned themselves comfortably and were subsequently told to move along. One by one they protested but the photographer clearly didn't have a heart. When it was her turn Christine quickly sat on the little wooden stool and faced the camera. The photographer went so fast, she wasn't sure if he'd caught her smile or whether she'd be walking around with a picture of her eyes shut where she'd accidentally blinked for the next four years. She'd have to wait and see. Once Rachel had had her turn they headed to the cafeteria to see what was on offer. Christine opted for the chicken salad and diet coke whilst Rachel came away with the skinned chicken breast, mashed potato and a cream soda. It was only a little before six and the dining hall was only half full so Rachel and Christine sat at a table by themselves and scanned the room for cute guys. After seeing only three okay looking boys they turned their attention back to the food.

"So your Mom's a forensic anthropologist"? Asked Rachel sounding impressed.

"Yep, she works at the Jeffersonian Institute".

"What does your Dad do? Is he like a mad scientist"? Both girls laughed at once, especially Christine at the thought of her father working in a lab.

"God, no. He's an FBI Agent".

"Really? Wow. And what does your brother do"?

"Parker? He works for the DA's office in Chicago and plays every sport imaginable when he's not working", she laughed. Just then a leggy brunette wearing stone washed jeans and a high pony tail approached their table and handed them a flyer.

"Hope you girls can make it", she said before disappearing.

They both studied the flyer informing them of a party in their building tomorrow night at eight o' clock.

"Maybe we should check it out", said Rachel excitedly.

"I don't know. I can just see my father's face now".

"Oh, come on! Please? It'll be a great way to meet new people", pleaded Rachel putting her hands together as if she were about to pray.

"Okay, okay. We can go".

"Oh. My. God", squealed Rachel. "What are we going to wear"?

It was four in the afternoon the next day and Rachel had ducked out for coffee. Christine was stood with her head upside down, pointing a hairdryer at it when she heard a knock on the door. She shut off the dryer and stood up going dizzy for a split second. She straightened and moved toward the door to open it. Instantly she regretted answering; on the other side of the door stood Michael Hodgins. He grinned and moved straight past her, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. He flopped down on her bed only to sit up immediately. "Jeez, Chris. You might want to invest in a new mattress"!

She rolled her eyes and slammed the door irritably. "It's Christine! And what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be out, spreading your seed or something"?

That must have amused him because he gave a husky laugh and looked her up and down. "All things in their proper time Chris. By the way, you might want to do something with your hair".

"Shut up", she said snatching her dryer and taking a seat at her dresser to continue blow drying it.

Michael rolled his eyes and began to raise his voice over the noise. "If my Mom asks, I stopped by yesterday", he said standing and walking over to her wardrobe - an emerald green lacy top hung over her favourite pair of dark denim jeans. "Cute", he observed before turning to look at her. "You going somewhere"?

"What"? She shouted, turning off the dryer once again.

"I said, are you going somewhere"?

"Not that it's any of your business but I am going to a party tonight".

"The one in this building"? He asked as he reached for the clothes hanger and unhooked her top to study it further; no doubt another ploy to get on her nerves.

"Yes, Mikey", she smirked and snatched her top from his grasp. "The one in this building".

"What a small world", he chuckled. "Me too. See ya there, Chris". With that he opened her door and disappeared.

She hated him. It annoyed her even more that he was so good looking. He resembled his mother more than his father. He had her dark eyes and olive complexion with her straight white teeth plus her nose and the same chocolate coloured locks, only he wore his in a short style with a little spiked at the front. Whilst Christine was taller than a lot of her friends at five feet eight, he still stood taller than her at a little over six feet. It was worse when he smiled and the same cheek dimples that were always present when Angela Montenegro laughed or smiled also appeared on his face. It was clear through his t-shirts - like the dark blue one he'd worn today - that he worked out. The shape of his hard pecks, and obviously wash board abs, were evident as his shirt moulded to his body perfectly. Today, he'd had on a pair of worn Levi's that she noticed hung low on his narrow hips and hugged his butt.

"Eugh"! She disgusted herself thinking about him in that much detail and went back to drying her hair before she started picturing him naked.

By eight fifteen that evening both Christine and Rachel were dressed and ready to go. Rachel had teamed a beaded silver top with white skinny jeans and a pair of silver stiletto's – conveniently adding a few inches to her height. Christine was wearing the lacy emerald green top with sleeves that stopped in the middle of her forearms and her dark denim jeans. She'd added a pair of simple black flats and a silver charm bracelet adorned her wrist whilst her golden brown hair was tousled and fell past her shoulders. Both girls wore light make up with matching blood red nails. "Let's go", said Rachel grabbing her thin grey cardigan and opening their door. They made their way along the corridor and up the stairs to the third floor. They heard the thud of music instantly and moved toward a door half way along the corridor from which students were moving in and out.

They stepped inside and were met with the smell of beer and the ruckus of about fifty underage guys and girls, engaged in conversation or dancing in the middle of the room; each with a drink in hand.

"Chris"! The voice was unmistakable. "You made it!" Michael ambled towards them and handed both girls a beer.

"Gee… thanks". She rolled her eyes and then noticed Rachel looking at her expectantly. "Rachel this is Mikey. Mikey, Rachel", she said deliberately cocking her head towards him with a sweet smile and using the name that was usually reserved for his Mother. He gave her a quick smile before turning on the charm.

"It's just Mike or Michael", he said extending his hand to Rachel who was blushing furiously and shaking his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Mike or Michael", she said with a giggle. "Christine hasn't mentioned you." A low chuckle erupted from his lips.

"Really?" He said in mock surprise. "Chris and I go way back." He winked at Christine and grinned.

"For the last time, it's Christine".

"Whatever", he turned his attention back to Rachel. "Would you like to dance?"

"Sure, I'd love to."

As Michael and Rachel moved towards the middle of the room where a group were gathered writhing about to the beat like a pack of animals, Christine swigged her beer and made her way over to a group of girls she recognised from freshman orientation.

As one hour passed into the next the place began to fill up as more kids began to hear about the party. The festivities had spread into the two adjoining dorms to make room for everyone. Christine was on her fourth beer but with Seeley Booth for a father, she rarely drank and she realised it had gone straight to her head as she found herself giggling uncontrollably and dancing with a cute blonde guy named… she couldn't remember his name but he was a pretty decent dancer. At least she thought so until he started to put his hands where they didn't belong. She politely moved them away only for him to rest his palm firmly on her behind. She was about to tell him to keep his hands to himself when Michael approached them and took her by the hand. "It's time to go Chris", he said casually and pulled her away toward a small table where Rachel stood getting herself a coke.

"I could have handled that", she said yanking her wrist from out of his grasp. She knew she was being ungrateful but she couldn't stand the thought of Michael thinking he had come to her rescue.

"Sure you could", he said. "There's a group of kids hanging out outside. Let's get some fresh air", he suggested to Rachel but giving Christine a pointed look that suggested if she didn't follow him willingly he'd pick her up and carry her outside.

"Okay", said Rachel.

"Whatever". Christine shoved past Michael without Rachel noticing and linked arms with her friend as the three of them made their way along the corridor, down the stairs and out through the main entrance.

There were a group of students sat on a cluster of benches out on the grass whilst some sat under the surrounding tree's chatting and laughing – others lay in the grass on blankets. A group of girls called Rachel over to sit with them as they made their way towards everybody. "Do you mind guys?" She asked politely.

"Of course not", said Michael before making his way over to an empty bench and sitting on the table whilst resting his feet on the seat. Christine joined him, only because she needed to sit for a few minutes. As she took a deep breath and closed her eyes she was relieved that the cool night air was beginning to clear her head but she wished she had brought a jacket with her.

"Didn't you bring a jacket?" Michael asked as if reading her mind.

"Excuse me but I didn't know we'd be sitting outside. Besides", she added defiantly. "It's not that cold".

"Right", he exhaled sounding exasperated. Nonetheless, he shrugged out of his own brown leather jacket and placed it around her shoulders.

"Who asked you to do that?" She almost accused him, jumping at his touch.

"Most people just say thank you", he scoffed. He took a swig of the beer he'd brought with him from the party. "So… Rachel's a nice girl. Not exactly my type but she's cute".

Christine let out a snort at that and regarded him with amusement. "I thought female was your type".

A grin turned up the corners of his lips. "You're hilarious, did anyone ever tell you that?" he drooled disingenuously.

"I hear it every day", she said, clearly keen to have the last word. She was thinking of what else she could say to insult him when they heard a loud scream. A couple, who Christine had seen sneak behind the back of the building whilst making out only minutes earlier ran towards the group of students on the grass. Even in the dark the girl looked pale with wide frightened eyes.

"What's wrong?" Several people asked at once.

The girl grasped her chest as if to steady her breathing. "There's a body back there!".


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N - So here's chapter 2! I am loving this season of Bones and once baby Christine came along I just knew her and Michael's story had to be told and in my vivid imagination I was alrady seeing 18 years into the future! Lol. I'll admit I haven't read any other Christine/Michael stories, not because I don't appreciate all of the amazing stories on here, but because I don't want other people's stories to taint my idea's for my story if that makes any sense. I don't want to start second guessing what I'm writing but after my story is done, I can't wait to read all of the others that are out there! So as I was writing this, I found myself cooing over Christine and Michael already! Not to compliment my writing but because of what I imagine for this perfect twosome in the future. So read and review with any feed back. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I apologise in advance if there are any spelling or grammatical errors! Happy reading :) xoxo**

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Christine woke to a pounding on her door. She groaned and rolled over, simultaneously pulling her pillow over her ears. It was no use; the pounding only grew louder so she opened one eye and looked at her bedside clock. Six forty a.m. She threw back her covers and hauled herself up. She wore a pair of pink satin pyjama shorts and a matching camisole and for a moment she considered covering up but then decided it was too much effort. Instead, she swung open her door. It was like déjà vu; only this time Michael stood with two coffee's in his hand. He immediately handed her one, raising one eyebrow. "Get dressed. You're going to want to see this". She swiped the coffee from him and slammed the door.

Ten minutes later she was dressed in her jeans from the night before along with a loose pink camisole similar to the one she'd just taken off and a white cotton cardigan. She had thrown her hair up in a lose bun and sipped on her coffee bleary eyed as she followed Michael out of the door's to the main entrance. She stopped in her tracks for a moment; noticing the hoard of students that were gathered toward the side of the building. Michael hustled her forward and pushed their way through the crowd until she spotted what he had brought her to see.

"Victim is male; Caucasian. He suffered comminuted fractures to the femur". The beautiful forensic anthropologist, who was all suited up, moved around to the other side of the remains. Her hair was pulled back into a knot and her blue eyes studied the set of bloodied bones before her. "Aged seventeen to twenty years old. I'd estimate time of death at two to three days ago judging from the amount of de-comp".

"Cause of death?" The tall, handsome FBI Agent moved closer to the body in his usual dark suit and brightly coloured tie. Today he'd chosen one with burgundy and silver stripes. He turned to address the gathering crowd and Christine quickly ducked behind a burly jock with wide shoulders and who stood a foot taller than her.

"From the fractures to his ribs, femur and the tire marks over there, I'd say someone rode over him with a car", answered her mother whilst the wind blew a strand of her light brown hair across her smooth cheek.

Christine couldn't believe after only three days apart from them, her parents were now on campus studying remains. It made sense since her mother was the only forensic anthropologist around; the nearest one next to Dr Temperance Brennan was in Montreal.

"Okay everyone", said her father. "Let's be on our way. Come on. Clear this area please".

Slowly the large crowd of students began to teeter off and Christine grabbed Michael maybe a little too roughly from the sounds of his quiet wince and hurried past the group already walking away before her father could spot the two of them in the colourful crowd. Christine let go of Michael's arm as he seemed to get the idea and began to follow her up the steps and back into the Anderson building. "You could have said 'Hi' to Mommy and Daddy back there", he said with an amused expression.

"Very funny Mikey! But there's no way I'm starting the next four years of my life as the creepy girl whose parents examine dead guys. Dead guy's on Campus no less".

"Whatever Chris. Where are you going"? He asked as she rolled her eyes and turned to walk away.

"Getting ready for my classes tomorrow if that's okay with you. See you around, Mikey". She gave him her sweetest faux smile and stalked off back to her dorm room.

Two hours later, Christine was lay on top of her already made bed with her eyes closed and her ear phones in with her iPod switched on and the volume turned up. She hadn't been able to fall back to sleep after her ridiculously early morning wakeup call so she had settled for some relaxation instead. She was trying desperately hard to mentally prepare for her first day of classes tomorrow with a knot in her stomach but her thoughts kept returning to an annoyingly handsome studio art major whose dark eyes had disarmed her only hours earlier and made her wish she had reached for her dressing gown before answering her door after all. He'd worn a sky blue t-shirt that had the words _Black Souls_ printed on it in bold black writing. The light colour had created a nice contrast with his olive skin and his jeans had once again moulded to him in all the right places. She noticed that his always immaculate appearance was a total contradiction to his lifestyle. For one he was lazy and wild. For as long as Christine had known him he'd always had a different girl on his arm and drank till his heart was content at all the parties thrown by the popular kid's. Once, during a party with his family and hers, she'd been walking in the gardens at the back of his father's property and seen him laid out on a deck chair getting lit. She had been an innocent fourteen year old at the time and was so startled she'd almost lost her balance and fallen into the pool. On top of that, he was an artist like his mother. Angela once told her that when Michael was younger, everyone had been waiting for him to start playing with bug's and dirt like his Daddy had encouraged, but instead he had found his way into his mother's art studio and created his first masterpiece. He had been nine years old and her uncle Jack had been extremely disappointed until Michael's sister, six year old Pippa, had come running through the house with a worm she had dissected in the garden. Angela said she had never seen Jack looking so proud. Needless to say Jack Hodgins was satisfied with his eldest daughter's interest in entomology and had been one of Michael's greatest supporter's ever since. Even still, Christine had never seen Michael looking dishevelled with paint on his face or clay under his finger nails. He always looked perfect. She had just started to imagine him with red acrylic paint smeared across one cheek with several other colours adorning his messy jeans whilst he stood tall and proud with a wooden palette in one hand and a paint brush in the other. She was imagining him as a free spirit with hair that fell to his shoulders in wavy chocolate locks when she felt a hand on her shoulder and she immediately opened her eyes and yanked out her ear phones. Her heart pounded from the shock and Rachel gave an apologetic giggle. "Sorry to scare you. It's just that, there's someone at the door for you".

"Is it Michael again"? She almost growled.

"Sorry", said Rachel again. "There's two someone's at the door". Rachel moved out of the way giving her a clear view of the two people stood framing the doorway.

"Mom. Dad", Christine said, not knowing quite how to respond. "Come in".

"Sorry to barge in on you Sweetie. We were already here; there's been a death. We were called to a set of remains outside the building earlier this morning". Her Dad explained and then a huge grin took over his face and he enveloped her in one of his bear hugs.

"No kidding. Someone is dead?" she said feigning shock.

Her mother stepped forward grinning and looked around the dorm room she shared with Rachel. "It's very tastefully decorated", she offered clearly pleased with her observation. "I'd love to stick around and observe the enculturation and socialisation that goes on here. The study of social statuses and roles, groups, institutions, and the relations among 10,000 adolescents-"

"Okay…that's enough of that Bones", said her father smirking at his daughter. Christine wasn't embarrassed but she wished she'd had the chance to forewarn Rachel about her Mother's constant need to verbally observe the goings on around her with mention of the anthropological connotations and her tendency to take everything quite literally. She only hoped that Rachel wasn't a devout member of any sort of church as her Mother also had a tendency to frequently deride any religion, usually resulting in insulting people without even realising it.

"Mom", Christine said smiling and attempting to change the subject. "This is my roommate Rachel". The pint sized red head stepped forward looking slightly bewildered.

"It's lovely to meet you Mrs Booth". Christine winced inwardly and stared at the pattern on her rug. She probably should have also mentioned to Rachel that her parents were not married.

"Oh, I'm not married to Agent Booth here and it's nice to meet you too Rachel".

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought…umm…"

Christine knew what was coming next. Her mother smiled pleasantly, seemingly unaware of any tension mounting in the room. "It's a common mistake. Booth and I are partners, at work…and in life". She specified as if trying the put the girl at ease somehow.

"Oh dear God", said her father and sat down on the small sofa in the middle of the room.

"You see, Christine's Father and I are in a committed relationship. We have been for nineteen years. Originally I believed marriage to be an archaic institution and completely unnecessary".

"Oh?" Asked Rachel politely.

"Yes. I'm not as opposed to the idea now but-".

"But… you're still not married", clarified Rachel with a puzzled expression etching itself along her brow.

"Yeah Bones. Why is that again?" Asked Christine's father with an innocence that amused Christine and her mother who turned away smiling.

"Mom?" Christine interrupted, seeing the look on Rachel's face and sensing her uneasiness. "Why don't we all grab some coffee?"

"Okay, that would be nice". Temperance Brennan smiled at her daughter. Her Father stood and opened the door for them.

"I think I'll stay here and let you guys have some time alone", said Rachel blushing. Christine couldn't blame her so instead she promised to bring her back a latte.

As Christine shut the door, her mother linked arms with her and held on to her partner's hand. Seeley Booth gave it a gentle squeeze and winked over her head at his daughter. "I think that went well", observed her mother triumphantly.

"I think you're right Mom", Christine said smiling inwardly. Although Dr Temperance Brennan had an extensive knowledge of anthropology she still lacked the social skills most other people possessed and usually never understood the references any of her family or friends made to pop culture, although on the rare occasion she did, she was always very proud of herself. Christine didn't care. Like her father, she had realised that the things that most people found strange about her mother, were really the things that made her so charming. There was nothing Temperance Brenan wouldn't do for the people she loved and she was more kind and generous hearted than anyone else Christine knew. For that reason, she knew there was no one else she could ever wish for as a mother.

Michael Hodgins handed the cashier a five dollar bill and grabbed his tall double foam cappuccino from the counter not bothering to wait for his change. He sat at a small corner table and opened up his collection of reading material for his first class tomorrow. He had gotten half way down the third page when he noticed Christine and her parents. His uncle Seeley opened a chair out for his aunt Temperance and Christine took a seat across from them both. Whilst the family fell into easy conversation, Michael watched Christine nibble on her banana muffin, lifting small pieces at a time to her full pink lips. He couldn't help but think to himself that she had changed. When he'd seen her last Christmas, he hadn't really paid her any attention besides a smile here and there and the odd question about her senior year whenever one of their parents had been around. His sister Pippa had once asked him why he was always so hard on Christine but he'd told her to mind her own business. In truth, he hadn't had an answer. He didn't know why he'd made her life so hard or been so mean. As an older brother to three sisters, he'd always been a decent guy. He protected them in the school yard from bullies, helped them with their homework and played soccer with them on the weekends. He threatened any guy who went within a ten mile radius of them which often angered Pippa who, at sixteen, was very stubborn as well as being a total geek. She had told Michael that not all that many guys were interested in a girl with the highest GPA in their class who spent all her spare time in the science lab and that she couldn't afford to have him scaring off the ones that were. The thought brought a smile to his lips. His other sisters Molly, aged fourteen, and Lily, aged twelve, hadn't yet out grown him and still forced him to attend their ballet recitals and swim meets which he did whenever he could. He liked being their protector and having them look up to him. When he'd been younger, Christine had stolen a lot of the attention. His mother had, and still did, adore her as did Christine's own mother and father and her big brother Parker as well as Michael's own three sisters. She'd pranced around his house in her little pink dresses and flowery head bands enchanting everyone so he'd amused himself by tugging on her hair when no one was watching or tripping her up when she wasn't paying attention to where she was walking. What had amazed him was that she'd been so weak. With the great Seeley Booth for a father and kick ass Doctor Temperance Brennan for a mother, he'd expected her to be a little more feisty and at least retaliate but instead her brilliant blue eyes had begun to water and her bottom lip quiver and she'd run to her parents or her big brother to defend her honour. Luckily, he hadn't exactly been an unpopular kid and nobody had taken much notice of little Christine Booth other than to kiss her wounds better and send her on her way. Now, she was no longer weak. She was smart like her mother and stubborn like her father. She had a smart mouth too, he'd noticed. She seemed to highly dislike him and the very idea sent a thrill through him. She would be a challenge, but if Michael liked a girl, he usually found a way to win her over in the end. And boy did he like little Christine Booth. Except, now, she was all grown up.

As Christine listened to her mother and father discuss the victim that had been found on campus, she wondered when Michael would make his way over to their table. She had clocked him when she'd first walked in and could almost feel the heat from his stare stroking her skin. She wondered what he was doing biding his time but knowing Michael he probably just couldn't be bothered moving from his place at the table across the room. Her parents were so engrossed in their discussion that they hadn't even noticed him. She finished the last bite of her muffin and took a sip of her coffee. She was getting ready to interrupt her parents before they went into more detail about rotting corpses when she felt a gentle tug on her hair and she turned in time to see Michael lowering himself into the seat next to her.

"Hey Chris", he drawled.

Her parents stopped their conversation at the sight of him. "Michael, what are you doing here?" Asked her mother with pleasure as she stood slightly and leaned over the table to plant a kiss on Michael's cheek.

"Mike, good to see you", said her father shaking his hand.

"Good to see you too, uncle Seeley. I was just grabbing coffee and going over some reading material for my class tomorrow. I suppose you're here on official FBI business?"

"Yes", answered her mother. "Did you hear about the set of remains we found?"

"Well, sure. Christine and I were there last night when those two students found the body".

"What?" Christine's father gave her a pointed look. "You didn't tell us you knew anything about it and you definitely didn't tell us you were there". Christine glared at Michael before addressing her father.

"Dad, I didn't want to worry".

"And what were you doing out last night?" She wondered if there was any point in answering him again. He looked like he was on a roll. It was Michael who answered though.

"Uncle Seeley, there's no need to worry. Christine and I were just getting some fresh air with a couple of other people. We heard the girl say she'd found a body and then Christine and I got out of there", he said so sincerely, she almost believed him herself. He failed to mention the part where he had taken her hand and yanked her around the side of the building, ignoring her protests, so they could get a closer look at the pile of mangled flesh and broken bones.

"Booth", interjected her mother. "There's no need to worry, like Michael said. I'm sure he's watching out for Christine. Right?" Both her parents turned their gazes on him expectantly and Christine couldn't wait to hear his response.

"Of course. You know I'll always look out for Chris", he smiled putting his arm around her neck in what could almost be considered as a stranglehold.

"It's Christine", she hissed, but then smiled sweetly at her parents to put them at ease. "Really, Daddy", she said reaching for her father's hand. "Don't worry about me. I'm perfectly safe".

Three days later, Christine sat in an uncomfortable solid wood chair in the Bender Library finishing up a paper for her abnormal psychology class. She wondered what her mother would think reading any of her work. It was no secret that both her parents had little respect for psychology as a whole, although her father had learned to rely on certain insight's her uncle Sweet's had provided over the years as a profiler for the FBI. Her mother had told her and anyone else who would listen, for years that Psychology was a fake science - which was imprecise and in accurate and that anything that was based so largely on interpretation and opinion instead of fact, couldn't be taken seriously. Her uncle Lance Sweet's however, had told Christine that what her mother failed to realise was, all his deductions about her and Christine's father and their complicated relationship, had all been entirely accurate. He had been immensely proud and somewhat amused when Christine had told him she would be doing her PhD in psychology. Her parents had had slightly different reactions, mostly consisting of stunned silence. In the end, they had come around after they'd made her promise to never try and psychoanalyse them. She scribbled a few more notes and decided to type up her paper and print it out before she left so she moved over to one of the computer work stations and began tapping at the keys. By the time she had finished, with several crisp white sheets of printed paper in her bag, it was gone ten o'clock and had already gone dark. She didn't mind as it wasn't a long walk back to the dorms. She buttoned her dark green jacket up and hauled her bag onto her shoulder before exiting the library. As she made her way back to her room she passed the Letts/Anderson quad where she had been earlier that day with Rachel. It was a nice spot with some large trees and several different seating areas where they'd eaten lunch. It was a popular spot for South campus residents to meet so it had been packed that afternoon. There were very few students around now though, with most people inside and a few studying at the library so it was a quiet walk back. Christine felt a vibration in her pocket and she reached for her blackberry and saw that it was her father calling. "Hi Dad".

"Hi honey. Just wanted to check in and make sure you're okay". _Great_ she thought. She loved her father but since the remains of Peter Cummings had been found, she had been receiving none stop calls from her parents and Angela making sure she was okay and that she wasn't alone.

"Where are you sweetie?"

"Oh…Just in my room finishing up a paper". She hated lying to her father but there was no way she was going to tell him she was out walking at night – alone.

"Okay, well I'll let you go then but I'll call you tomorrow. I love you".

"Love you too, Dad". She hung up and put her phone back into her pocket. She had taken a few more steps when she heard loud footsteps approaching and two hands at her waist. She meant to scream but her heart was practically in her mouth so instead she quickly turned in fear to see who was behind her.

"Liar, liar", said Michael laughing. "Hope I didn't scare you there, Chris", he said; an amused grin teasing his lips.

"You idiot! The sight of your ugly face was the only thing that sacred me!" That really made him laugh and he fell into an easy stride beside her and tucked his hands into the pockets of his beige khaki pants that he wore with only a thin brown t-shirt.

"It's freezing out here." He made a dramatic shivering sound. "Are you going to repay the favour and loan me your jacket? It sure looks cosy".

"What do you want?" She gave him an icy stare that was in total contrast to what she was actually thinking – which was that he looked just as good in earth tones as he did in bright colours.

"Nothing. I was on my way back from a poker game with a buddy of mine and I saw you. Or, rather, heard you. Why did you tell your Dad you were inside?"

"Not that it's any of your business, yet again, but I wasn't about to tell my Dad I'm walking outside, alone in the dark when he can't solve the murder that's just taken place outside of our building. Okay?"

"Whatever."

"Whatever? Is that your new catchphrase?" He laughed again; something he seemed to do an awful lot when he was around her.

"Only when I'm around you Chris."

"It's CHRISTINE!" She expected an argument to ensue but instead he slowly stopped walking and came to a halt.

"What's going on?" He said, as if to himself. He seemed to have forgotten all about her and instead turned his attention to the steps of the Lett's building where a small group of students gathered.

"What's wrong with you?" He didn't answer but instead pulled her towards the steps and stopped outside the brown framed double doors.

"What's happened?" He asked to everyone and no one.

"They found another body", a small voice answered. It belonged to a girl with blonde curls and large green eyes who was currently holding a tissue to them. "Someone found it about a half hour ago at the back of the North section near another dumpster. They think it's Kevin", she let out a sob and another girl patted her on the back.

"Come on", he said to Christine taking her hand. "Let's get out of here, I'll walk you back".

"I don't need an escort", she snorted.

"I wasn't asking!" There was a fierceness in his voice that unnerved her so instead of protesting further, she let him lead her back to the Anderson Building.

"Did you know him?" Christine asked as they entered their building a few minutes later.

"Not all that well but he was a nice guy. I don't know who'd want to hurt him", said Michael, a puzzled expression fixing itself on his face.

"Guess this means my parents will be back by morning".

"Yeah", he said as if lost in thought. He walked her the short way along the corridor and stopped outside of her door. "It also means there's a killer on campus".

"I guess it does", she said looking at her feet instead of at Michael.

"Listen, if you want to go anywhere in the evening's from now on, go with Rachel or call me. I don't want you out walking by yourself in the dark". Christine let out an indignant gasp.

"Excuse me; I can take care of myself".

"Like hell you can. I mean it Christine". She was so stunned that he'd used her actual name she barely noticed when, without asking, he reached in her pocket for her phone and began tapping at the buttons. After a minute gave it back to her.

"What did you just do?" She asked staring at the screen.

"I gave you my number silly", he drawled, the cocky grin he reserved for her returning to his face. He opened her door for her and gave her a not so gentle shove inside. "Remember, no gallivanting around the campus at night by yourself. Oh, and, say Hi to Rachel for me". He smirked and then shut her door with her safely on the other side and she heard his footsteps gradually retreat.

His number? He'd given her his number? She exhaled a disgusted breath and then went into the contact list on her phone. She scrolled down and an unexpected smile played at her mouth as she noticed that he'd saved his number under _Mikey_.

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**So what did you think? Please review I'm dying for feed back!**


	3. Chapter 3

Doctor Temperance Brennan was growing increasingly concerned at the prospect of having her only daughter living on a college campus were two murders had been discovered in four days. She tried to concentrate on the set of remains that lay in front of her next to the grungy yellow dumpster where they had been found but she was more anxious than she normally would be at a crime scene and she knew Booth was feeling the same way. Their daughter was living only yards away from the place were two gruesome killings had potentially taken place. She tried to push it from her mind and instead addressed her partner. "Like the other body, victim is male, Caucasian and aged between seventeen and twenty". She leaned further over the body and noticed a break to the clavicle and comminuted fractures to the right and left femurs which were similar to Peter Cummings' injuries as well as severe fractures to his ribs. "Only this victim is missing one of his phalanges".

"Some of the students think it could be a sophomore named Kevin Williamson".

"It could be him. I'll need to get all of this back to the lab Booth." Temperance Brennan stood and peeled off her gloves.

"Have you spoken to Christine today?" Booth surveyed the remains with a frown.

"I spoke to her this morning, she's busy with classes all day but I told her we'd call her later."

"Maybe we should move her off campus." Booth was interrupted by his ringing cell phone and excused himself whilst Brennan put her kit in the boot of her car and stepped out of her dark blue forensic suit. Booth flipped his phone shut and made his way over to her. "Apparently Kevin's parents say they haven't spoken to him in three days and weren't able to get a hold of him when they tried calling him last night. Neither could his girlfriend."

"Then I should really get back to the lab so we can identify the victim".

"Okay Bones. Maybe for now we should get some police patrols arranged and enforce some sort of curfew."

"I think that's a good idea, plus, taking Christine off campus now would only disrupt her".

"Okay. And, hey, if we're looking at a serial killer, which is possible theory since the injuries to both victims were very similar; at least they're only killing males."

"Booth! You know I can't indulge a theory like that without proper evidence. That's only an assumption".

"Okay, okay Bones, I get it. You get back to the lab and do your thing and I'll deal with making it a little safer on campus and I'll call you later."

Unfortunately for Temperance Brennan, she had decided to divulge Booth's theory of a serial killer back at the lab whilst examining the second set of mangled bones only to discover that her best friend hadn't shared her relief that the killer may only be murdering males on campus. It was only after Angela had gone ballistic and stormed off the platform, jabbing numbers into her cell as she went, that Brennan had deduced that it hadn't been the most prudent thing to say to a woman who was fiercely protective of her children and whose son lived on campus.

Christine had seen the hoard of students gathered, yet again, around the crime scene when she had left her building early this morning to attend her abnormal psychology class. She had known her parents would be there because her mother had called her that morning wanting to make sure she was safe. She understood her parents concern - she was a little concerned herself. Last night, after Michael had walked her back to her dorm, she filled Rachel in on what had happened and then gotten ready for bed but all night, she had barely slept a wink. She had tossed and turned and in the short amount of time she had slept, she'd had a nightmare that had shocked her wide-awake.

She had dreamt that she was walking down the corridor on the third floor. She had never been to the third floor before but she knew that it was where Michael's dorm room was. The lights were out and as she advanced along the cold wood floor of the hallway, she noticed that her feet were bare and dirty but she didn't understand why. Had she been outside? It seemed like it was getting darker and there wasn't even the faintest bit of light coming from underneath the doors of any of the rooms. Why would there be? It was the middle of the night after all. She carried on walking until she saw him. She instantly felt safe. She forgot all about the blackness surrounding her and her previous confusion. She saw Michael's face and he smiled at her. She smiled back and picked up her pace. She wanted to get to him, to touch him. He held his arms out to her and she crushed herself against his strong chest feeling relieved that she was no longer alone but when she pulled back slightly and looked up into his face, he was no longer smiling. His eyes had turned wide and glassy. His beautiful face contorted in pain. He grasped his stomach and as she looked down to see what was wrong, she saw the blood. The deep red liquid was pouring out of a gash in his stomach and she took a step back in terror. That was when she saw her own hands; covered in his blood. She was holding a large knife whose blade was also smeared in the sticky dark red molten that seeped from between Michael fingers as he tried to steady himself and hold his wound closed. She gasped and dropped the knife. She remembered thinking that it was very strange that the blade made no sound when it impacted with the hard floor. That was when she had woken up with a jolt. She had sat up against her pillow trying to slow her rapid breathing, pressing her trembling hands to her chest to rest over her heart.

Now, as she sat in her second class of the morning waiting for her professor to arrive, she thought about her dream. She wondered what it had meant. Why was she dreaming about killing Michael Hodgins? Lord knew they didn't have the best track record but she had never wished him dead - especially now when he was showing her a different side to himself. She had even found herself attracted to him at certain times over the last few days. She put it down to the recent murders that were on everyone's mind and the fact she had been spending time, not purposely, with Michael. Still, after she had dressed for class this morning, she'd had a strong urge to call him and check that he was okay. Luckily, she'd used her better judgement and told herself not to be ridiculous. However, she was anxious to lay eyes on him at some point today, even if just for a split-second to reassure herself that she hadn't sleep-walked and brutally attacked him in the night. Before she thought anymore about it, her attention turned to the door where her professor had just walked in. She reached for her note book and was about to get out her pen when she noticed her father following closely behind. He asked if everyone was here before shutting the door behind him. He reached for his badge and flashed it around the room, introducing himself, before putting his hands on his hips. She knew her father. This must be serious.

"I'll only take a few moments of your time. I'm sure by now you've all heard about the recent murder's that have taken place on campus. As of yet there are no suspects. After speaking with the Dean, we have agreed that from tonight onwards, until further notice, a curfew will be enforced on all students and faculty member's unless you have a police escort. After 10.30pm, for your own safety, all students must remain in their dorms and any students needing to travel to and from the library or anywhere else, will be escorted in groups by a member of the Police Department. There will be patrol cars around campus at all times so do not be alarmed, it is for your own safety. It's best to travel in groups and please be careful. That's all, thank you for your time." Her father gave the professor a curt nod and left the room but not before looking her in the eyes for a second longer than necessary. Now she really was worried. Now, she felt as if she really were in danger. She believed that, more than anything, it was her dream that had unnerved her so for the rest of the day as she travelled to and from her classes, she tried to put it from her mind. She met Rachel for lunch on the quad again at 1 o'clock. It was clear from Rachel's nervous rambling and the frown that had taken up residence between her eyebrows, that Seeley Booth had taken a trip to everyone's classrooms that morning. She didn't know why it should bother her or Rachel in any case since both victims had been male, but nonetheless they spent their lunch hour discussing who the possible killer could be. Was it someone in Letts Hall or maybe even someone who lived in the Anderson building with them? Since both victims were male, was the killer male or female? What could their possible motive be? Did Doctor Brennan and Agent Booth have any leads? Christine could not even answer the last question since her parents hadn't even mentioned the case to her since she last saw them last except to check that she was okay.

The girl's theories continued into their dinner conversation as they sat in the dining hall with their heads over their untouched meals, their eyes scanning the room for anyone who 'looked like a murderer', as Rachel had put it. As Christine pushed her mashed potatoes around her plate and fiddled with the small dolphin pendant that hung from her necklace, she thought about calling her Dad to milk him for information but she decided against it. A thud on the table made her jump until she swiftly lifted her head to see that Michael had tossed his tray down next to her and pulled out a chair to sit.

"Mind if I join you ladies?" But his question was merely a formality since he'd already seated himself at their table. Christine was about to say something sarcastic when the image of Michael's wide eyed stares and his blood on her hands, halted her. Instead, she managed a faint smile. "Are you okay?" She should have known that a polite smile instead of a harsh witty comment would put him on alert. Now he was looking at her expectantly, concern showing in his expression.

"I'm fine", she set down her fork. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just look weird. Anyway, what were you two lovely ladies talking about?" Christine was about to tell him to mind his own business when Rachel leaned slightly forward and started talking in hushed tones.

"The murders", she motioned for Michael to lean closer and he complied but Christine could tell it was paining him not to laugh. "We were throwing around some theories. We think the killer is a scorned female student turned serial killer." Rachel took a quick look to her left and right as if she was revealing government secrets.

"Wow." Michael cracked a smile and began stabbing at a piece of chicken with his fork. "You two have quite the imagination don't you?"

Rachel blushed slightly and then let out a quiet giggle whilst waving her hand. "I guess I've seen too many episodes of True Crime."

Christine laughed along with her friend; finally beginning to relax. Whilst she sipped her diet coke, she took the time to study Michael Hodgins. Today he wore a pair of black cargo pants and sneakers with a beige t-shirt and an open neck black fleece. He looked good but more importantly there was no dark red mark staining his clothing and rather than writhing in pain he was happily chatting with Rachel about her classes in between mouthfuls of his mashed potatoes. Christine smiled to herself. A week ago, she would have been bent over laughing if someone had told her she'd be happy to see Michael Hodgins unharmed and dining with her. It was funny how things worked out.

After Rachel and Christine were done with their dinner, Michael insisted on walking back with them to their room. Christine rolled her eyes but Rachel thanked him three times before they'd even left the dining hall. On their short walk back the dorms, Christine decided to quiz Michael about his art and question why he never walked around with paint smeared on his clothing or smudges on his face. She knew it was ridiculous but the more she thought about it, the more it annoyed her. "I've never even seen any of your work." She was quite serious about the last point. Apart from a glimpse here and there when they had been younger, she had never seen Michaels art work. She didn't even know if he was any good. He'd laughed at that last one. As if he was so self-assured, it was laughable to hear someone doubt his talent.

When they reached their room Rachel thanked him again and went on inside and as Christine was about to follow her roommate, Michael gently reached for her hand. "Christine, wait". He looked down the corridor as if trying to make up his mind. "Will you come with me for a minute; I want to show you something".

"That's what she said." He tilted his head back and let out a raspy chuckle at her response, still holding onto her hand. She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks and she didn't know where to put her face, she had startled herself with the innuendo. "I'm sorry", she quickly apologised. "I don't know where that came from".

"That's okay, as long as it was a yes".

"Okay." It was against her better judgment to follow Michael Hodgins into the unknown like one of his _women_ but she had to admit that a part of her was intrigued by him. As she called to Rachel that she wouldn't be long and pulled their dorm room door shut, she felt a little giddy. Every moment she spent with Michael he became more and more attractive to her. She didn't know why she had never felt it before – probably because he had spent the better part of the last four years pretending she didn't exist. At the realisation she recoiled a little and pulled her hand out of his.

"Everything okay?" He asked and put his hands in his pockets choosing to ignore the awkwardness that had just occurred.

"Yeah. Let's go."

Michael unlocked the door to his dorm room and let it open slowly. He gestured for Christine to enter so she slipped past him taking care not to touch him as she passed through the narrow door way. The carpet was the same grungy green colour as hers and like her; he had put down a much nicer rug to cover most of it. Whilst he rummaged around in a large folder that was wedged in between his wardrobe and the wall, she began to look around. His bed was adorned with a simple dark brown quilt which she lightly ran her fingers along. It was Egyptian cotton, she knew because his mother had given her a similar one in turquoise last Christmas. There was a patterned silk throw draped over the foot of his bed which she thought looked like an Asian inspired design, probably another of his mother's subtle touches. A small bedside table stood next to his bed and held a chrome digital alarm clock along with a beige suede lamp and his iPod. His sleek black wooden desk was positioned under the window where a silver laptop lay shut along with another lamp, only this one was chrome and bendy. Christine was shocked at the neat orderly fashion in which his room was organised and was almost annoyed that she couldn't see a single art supply anywhere. Where was his paint or pencils even? Didn't he use oil pastels or chalk? Where were his messy clothes or his pallet and fancy brushes?

"You look mad".

"What?" She turned in his direction and noticed he was holding a folder under his arm. "No, I'm fine. What's that?"

"Well", he motioned for her to take a seat on his bed and she did so after slightly hesitating. "You said you'd never see any of my work, right?"

"Right."

"Here it is". He placed the folder on the bed beside her and took a seat at his desk a few feet away. She cleared her throat before turning to the first page. She was worried in case his work wasn't any good. How convincing were her lies? Unless she had gotten any better at it in the last couple of years, not very convincing at all and she prayed there was something half way decent in this portfolio. The first page was a black and white drawing, or rather a portrait. The detail in the girl's curls framing her heart shaped face and the small crease around her eyes as she smiled, down to her small straight nose we perfect and Christine knew immediately that the girl was Michael's youngest sister Lily. She smiled and turned to the next page. This piece was in stark contrast to the previous one as the colours almost bounced off the page. It was an abstract piece with different shapes and textures. It reminded her of the piece that hung in the hallway at home. Her mother had paid twenty five thousand dollars for it but looking at Michael's work, she probably would have preferred to see this in her hallway every day. She flipped through several more pages before stopping at a drawing that looked almost as realistic as a photograph. She guessed that he'd used oil pastels in this one but she couldn't be sure and she studied it more closely. It was of a young woman that couldn't have been any older than her mid-twenties. She stood on a rounded table, seemingly proud in all of her naked glory. Michael moved to sit beside her on the bed, obviously wondering what had caught her attention and as he saw what she was looking at she felt the heat rising up her neck and into her cheeks. He smiled. "Her name was Diane. German; didn't speak a word of English".

"I though nude models were supposed to just stand there and be quiet".

"Oh they are. I took Diane out after that class. I took French in high school so it was the most awkward coffee date I've ever had". They both laughed.

"Your work is good Michael".

He gave her a quizzical look. "You say that as if you're surprised".

"Honestly I am. I mean, when I look at you, I don't see an artist. You're neat and organised and just looking around this room. Where's all your stuff?"

"My stuff?"

"Your art stuff". He let out a soft knowing laugh.

"Believe it or not, you're not the first person to ask me that so I'm going to let you in on a little secret. They invented these really cool things a long time ago called overalls…I like to wear them". She laughed feeling slightly stupid for not working it out before now. "And as for my art supplies…" He moved over to his wardrobe and pulled out a hefty looking wooden truck and two sleek chrome cases. He opened each one up and inside where all the art supplies she imagined one person could ever need. There were brushes; probably about fifty in all different sizes along with three wooden pallets. He owned several sets of acrylic paints, water colour paints, oil pastels, chalk pastels, hundreds of markers and art pencils and that was just in his wooden truck. "Does that solve the mystery for you?" he asked through a chuckle.

"Yes, that it does." She smiled slightly embarrassed and pushed her hair behind her ears. She sat back on his bed. His was so much more comfortable than hers and she decided she'd have to talk to her Mom about a new mattress for her own bed. Michael put away his trunk and two cases and then sat a few inches away from her on his bed.

"You know, I almost got marched off the campus thanks to Mamma Bones".

"Why, what did my mother do now?"

"She seems to think that there's a female serial killer at work targeting males. Apparently she decided to express her relief at having a daughter to my Mom".

"And?"

"Let's just say I had to spend a good twenty minutes talking my mother out of coming down here to pick me up. I barely managed to talk her out of putting stationed guard outside of this building".

"That might not have been a bad idea. The murders have happened outside this building and the one right next to us. My Mom and Dad don't have any leads. Maybe we're not safe", she exhaled and closed her tired eyes.

"You okay?" He asked seemingly studying her.

"I just didn't get much sleep last night that's all".

"Were you worrying about the killings?"

She looked into his dark eyes and once again thought about his face twisting in pain and his glassy stare. She decided against telling him about her nightmare. She feared that all he would take from it is that she'd been dreaming about him and that was the last thing she wanted him to know. "Something like that".

"Christine, I already told you not to worry about it. Nothing's going to happen to you and with your parents working the case, I'm sure it won't be much longer until they catch the person who's doing this".

"Yeah, you're probably right". She wondered what he'd say if he knew it wasn't her own life that she was worrying about. Something about her nightmare had seemed so real, it had put her on edge. "I'm going to get going; I have some work to do before I hit the sack but thank you for showing me your work. It's amazing".

"Thanks. Come on, I'll walk you back".

As Michael watched Christine fumble for her key he smiled. Sometimes she seemed so cocky and together and other times she muttered and mumbled and seemed so unsure of herself. She definitely intrigued him and tonight he was glad he'd spotted her in the dining hall. Of course he'd gone there purposely looking for her, but nevertheless he was glad she'd been there at the same time which meant he'd been able to have dinner with her and he'd also had a chance to show her some of his work. He'd liked seeing her casually positioned on his bed, as if she belonged there. He'd liked it even more when he'd discovered her staring at the nude picture of the German model. He'd noticed that she'd started to blush and the thought brought a smile to his lips. "Got it", she said pulling out her key and shoving it into the lock. The lights were on and across the room Rachel waved from her position at her desk as she tapped away at her laptop with a pair of earphones in her ears. She pulled the left one out slightly to address Christine. "Someone left a box for you; it's on your desk".

"Okay, thanks Rachel. She turned to him and smiled. "Thanks again Michael".

"You're welcome", he turned to leave. "Oh, and, Christine?"

"Yeah?"

"Get some sleep." He smiled before shutting her door. He stayed positioned outside whilst he took his phone out of his pocket. He was about to text her a slightly inappropriate crack about the nude picture she'd spent so long staring at but he was interrupted by the sound of her scream. "Christine!" He banged on her door but didn't wait for an answer before barging in. She stood in front of her desk peering over at the box Rachel had pointed to a moment ago. "What's wrong?" He walked towards her and noticed that she was shaking. He looked down at the small square box and immediately grasped Christine's shoulders and gently moved her backwards away from the desk. The white cardboard box lay open; its insides were marked with patches of red where a bloodied finger lay along with a note.

"What does the note say?" Asked Christine who was now peering around him whilst tightly grasping his shoulders as if to steady herself.

Michael read it aloud. "Princess, please pass this along to your Mother". He turned on Rachel sounding a little more aggressive than he intended. "Who dropped this off?"

The pint-sized red-head clutched her chest as if to slow her breathing. "I don't know. Someone knocked at the door and when I answered that was on the floor and it had Christine's name on the front".

"Michael", Christine seemed to have trouble focusing on his face and kept darting glances at the box. "They know who I am. The murderer; it has to be from them. They know who I am and where I am! Oh my God".

"Calm down", he once again took her shoulders and steered her towards her bed where she sat down, tears forming in her eyes. "Give me your phone Christine".

Temperance Brennan had just thrown her take out box in the trash and joined Booth on their sofa when her cell phone rang. She reached for her purse and saw her daughter's caller ID on the small screen.

"It's Christine", she said to her partner as she flipped it open and pressed it to her ear. "Hello Christine. Is everything okay?" Seeley Booth reached for the remote and turned the TV set onto mute. "Michael. What are you doing with Christine's phone? Is she okay?" Booth hated listening to one ended conversations and wished Bones would just switch her cell onto speaker phone so that he wasn't sat in anticipation. "Is she okay?" Bones' brow began to furrow and her voice grew several decibels louder.

"Bones. What's going on?" He asked leaning forward expectantly.

"Whatever you do, don't touch it. Lock the doors and windows and I'll alert the police department who are on patrol. We're on our way". She flipped her cell shut and sprang from the sofa reaching for her purse and her keys.

"What's going on? Has something happened to Christine?" He reached for his jacket and keys and stood up.

"That was Michael", he began following her down the hallway and out of the front door. "Someone left Christine a package outside her door. It was a finger, possibly the one missing from the second victim. There was also a note… _Princess, please pass this along to your mother_." Booth looked infuriated and jumped into the driver's seat. He started the engine and put it into drive before Brennan had even had chance to shut the passenger's side door.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you for the kind reviews. They have inspired chapter 4. I had half written already but I have finally finished it so I hope you guys like it. As always I apologise in advance for any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors. Read and Review! Happy reading :) xoxo**

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By eleven thirty that evening, as Christine looked around her dorm room, she thought it looked more like a family reunion. As well as Michael, who had stayed with her, her parents stood talking to two police officer's whilst Jack Hodgins stood close by examining the small box for particulates and Michael's mother Angela was seated across the room on Rachel's bed chatting to the red-head, who was now a shade of grey, whilst her eyes darted frantically around the room from one person to another. Christine was over her own nervous breakdown and her breathing had returned to normal. She was slightly embarrassed by her fearful display in front of Michael but he didn't seem to mind and had held her hand for a good half hour, only releasing it as her parents had entered her room, swiftly followed by Jack and Angela. Now Michael sat beside her on her bed silently observing the commotion. Christine's father was the first to speak. "You're not staying here".

"Dad, if the killer had wanted to hurt me, don't you think they would have?"

"I don't care. This person knows where you are. Rachel can stay somewhere else too."

Christine stood in protest. "Dad, our house is miles away and I don't want to miss classes this early on."

"Christine this is not up for discussion." He turned to her mother for a show of parental unity and she nodded her head.

"Your Father's right Christine. It's not safe here."

Sensing the tension, Angela quickly stood. "Christine, your parents are right it isn't safe for you here. But – I know you don't want to be too far away or miss classes so why don't you come and stay with us. It's closer than your house and I'll drive you back in the morning."

Christine quickly weighed the pros and cons. On one hand it was a huge inconvenience and she was already embarrassed by the attention it was drawing to her. Then again, she was seriously creeped out and it would be easy to make it back in time for classes if she went to Jack and Angela's. Plus, her Father wouldn't give this one up. "Okay. Thank you."

"Okay, great. Shall we go? It's getting pretty late."

"Actually Mom," Michael stood up abruptly. "It really makes more sense if I come home too – that way I can bring Christine back here for classes. It's out of your way and it's no trouble for me." He darted a quick glance at Christine and she wasn't sure where to put her face. She was a little taken back by the suggestion but at the same time she felt a little warm glow inside. For some reason, she felt a lot safer when Michael was around.

Angela looked from Michael, to Jack, to Booth and Brennan and back to Christine and Michael. "Err… Okay. I guess that makes sense."

"Great, I'll go grab some things. You can ride with me Christine; I'll be back in five."

Christine quickly grabbed a pair of jeans and a powder blue sweater as well as matching bra and panties. She pulled a small green duffel bag from the top of her wardrobe and threw her things in it. She then packed her snoopy pyjamas along with her toothbrush and hairbrush. She quickly threw on her deep red coat and by the time she had kissed both of her parent's goodbyes and made sure that Rachel could crash in the dorm next door, Michael appeared in her doorway carrying his own overnight bag and swivelling his car keys on his index finger.

Michael owned a black jeep which had been a present for his seventeenth birthday. The comfy leather interior smelled almost new and as the seat slowly heated underneath her butt, Christine leaned back finally able to relax. Michael turned on the radio but kept it on low and whilst they made their way along Massachusetts's Avenue with the American University campus in the rear-view, Christine noted that he was a very smooth, comfortable driver. Instead of keeping his hands at ten and two o'clock like she always insisted on, he sat with his left arm out stretched; his hand resting on the top of the wheel and with his other hand, he fiddled with the radio switching stations but still kept his eyes on the road. It was pitch black outside now and the only light came from the strategically placed dim street lamps and the beam of the cars headlights. Michael finally settled on a station and as Christine recognised the mellow sounds of Thriving Ivory, she closed her eyes.

As Michael signalled left at the intersection, he heard Christine's soft breathing and when he looked to his right he realised she was sleeping. The song switched to a haunting melody of Adele's and he couldn't help a soft smile curving his lips. He couldn't believe he'd suggested that he come and stay at home with Christine. When he'd left her room to get his stuff he'd come to his senses and realised that his heroic display must have been extremely obvious to his overly perceptive Mother and when he'd returned to the room, he'd avoided making eye contact with her. In the time he had been sat with Christine holding her warm palm in his own, he had realised that he liked her. More than he'd liked any other girl and he'd instantly experienced an unsettling feeling in his gut. It told him that things were about to get complicated. He'd known the moment he'd shown up at her door that first day that he'd been attracted to her and he'd gotten a kick out of getting under her skin and making her roll those clear blue eyes at something he said. He'd wanted to make her blush just so he could watch the heat rise past her cute little dimples and flood her baby doll cheeks. He hadn't known that he'd grow to enjoy it more and more each time he saw her – so much so, that he'd deliberately go looking for her. But it had happened and after tonight he didn't want to let her out of his sight.

* * *

Christine felt a soft grazing at her cheek and she twitched trying to make it go away but it kept on. She opened her eyes and realised it was Michael's warm hand that was brushing her cheek trying to wake her. She abruptly sat up; embarrassed that she hadn't even been able to stay awake through the short journey to his house. For some reason whenever he was around, something happened to make her feel utterly ridiculous. "We're here", he said softly and smiled. He was already holding his own bag as well as hers and she cleared her throat and pushed her hair behind her ears, quickly patting it down at the crown where she had slept on it. She slipped out of the passenger side and followed Michael up the front path. He reached in his pocket for his key and after twisting it in the lock; he opened the door and motioned her inside. Jack and Angela mustn't be back yet. "Since Lily decided she wanted her own room over the summer, our spare room is, well, no longer spare", he said barely above a whisper. His three sisters were no doubt asleep upstairs. "But don't worry, you can sleep in my room and I'll crash on the sofa in my studio."

"Your studio?"

"My art studio."

"Since when do you have an art studio?"

"Since last summer when I made our attic my art studio." He smiled and moved down the hallway towards the stairs. "Come on, I'll take your bag up."

She followed him up the familiar maple wood staircase and past the door to the spare room that was slightly ajar leaving a slice of light to cut across the floor and cast a dim glow onto Lily, who was sound asleep with her arm curled protectively around a white fluffy bear, her fuzzy curls spread across the pillow. Michael whispered to Christine. "In the morning she hides her bear under the bed and swears she doesn't know who keeps leaving her door open at night". Christine let out a quiet giggle along with Michael and followed him into his spacious bedroom where a large bay window looked out onto the back patio. He put down her bag with his own and walked over to the window to draw the heavy silk grey curtains.

"Are you sure about this?" She felt slightly uncomfortable standing alone with him in his room for a second time that evening. "I could just bunk with Pippa and you can have your own bed."

"Are you kidding?" It was obviously a rhetorical question because he instantly continued. "You'll never get any sleep if you crash in her room. Once she realises you're here she'll never stop yapping."

"Good point. Thanks."

"You're welcome. We should probably leave at about eight tomorrow. I guess I'll see you at breakfast. Oh and if you want to shower or anything, you can use my bathroom. I swear it's clean. Plus, in the morning, you won't get near the other bathroom with my darling sister's around. Towels are in the linen closet over there. Goodnight."

"Goodnight. Michael?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for everything."

"I'm just glad you're okay." He took his bag and closed the door behind him. She heard his footsteps above a few minutes later in the attic and she reached for her pyjamas to get ready for bed. She was exhausted and as she climbed into bed she felt physically drained. Almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, she fell asleep.

Unfortunately, Christine once again, woke up with a jolt. She didn't know what time it was and she reached for the small clock on the bedside table. It read three: forty one and she groaned. She rested her head back on the pillow, her eyes wide open, and she pulled the black and white patterned duvet up around her chin. She'd dreamt about Michael again.

She'd walked down the same dark corridor, only this time Michael wasn't there. She was trying to hurry but her feet refused to go any faster, as if she was wading through deep water and she felt frantic and kept turning to look behind her. She'd had the distinct feeling that she was being chased but there was no one around. She stopped outside of Michael's door where a white box lay slightly open. She picked it up with trembling hands only to find that there was something inside; a blooded finger. She let the box fall from her hands but she didn't notice where it landed or if it made a sound because she was already opening Michael's door. He lay on his bed. The stab wound wasn't there and she exhaled and rushed over to him. As she bent over his still frame, she noticed blood coming from somewhere. The same sticky red that had covered her hands in the dream the night before. It smelled like copper and rust and churned her stomach until she felt nauseated. She reached for Michael's hand only to realise the finger in the box had belonged to him. His hand was covered in blood with his little finger missing. As she began to sob and take his face in her hands, his head turned in her direction. His eyes were glassy with a fixed stare. His throat was slashed. She screamed.

That was when she had woken up. Her chest felt tight. Once again, she had the urge to check that Michael was okay, this time it was too strong to ignore. She sat up and slipped one foot out of bed followed by the other. The cold hit her straight away and she shivered but she moved towards the door regardless and opened it slowly praying that it wouldn't creak as she did so. It didn't. The landing was pitch black but she had been here many times and she knew the way. Once her eyes had adjusted to the dark she began walking forward, taking small steps and being careful not to make any noise. She held her hand out in front of her and felt her way along the wall until she came to the stairs that led to the attic. She took one step at a time, still feeling her way. Once she reached the top, she noticed that the door wasn't shut all the way and she smiled. It looked like Lily wasn't the only Hodgins kid who liked the door to be left slightly ajar after lights out. She opened the door slowly and saw Michael asleep in the middle of the room on his sofa bed. She felt incredibly stupid for taking this little trip up to the attic to check that he was still breathing but as she turned to leave she heard a faint snore and something inside her propelled her further into the room instead of back down the stairs, which is exactly where she should have been heading. She could always plead temporary insanity later on. She tip toed toward him. His left cheek was crushed against the pillow and his mouth was open a little. His long body was sprawled out with one tanned leg draped over the top of the cover. She could tell now that he was wearing boxers and a white t-shirt that was so bright it almost glowed in the dark. Now she felt slightly crazy stood over Michael whilst he slept. It reminded her of the psycho version of herself in the first nightmare she'd had, as if at any moment she should pull out a knife and stab him to death, so she turned to leave. As soon as she did, she banged her foot on the leg of the small chair which was positioned next to the sofa bed and when she heard him stir she immediately regretted coming up here. "Christine?"

"I'm sorry. I'm leaving."

"Wait." His voice was groggy with sleep. "What are you doing up here?"

"Wow, this is embarrassing. I was just checking that you were okay."

"Oh?"

"You're going to think I'm a total psycho but I dreamed that you were dead again and I just err… wanted to see that you were okay before I went back to sleep."

"Again?"

"I'm sorry", she was glad it was dark because she was certain that her face was bright red. "I just… I keep having these weird dreams since the killings and I can't sleep and I guess I wanted to reassure myself that it was a dream and that you were really okay before I go and lie awake for the next few hours."

"You really do have an overactive imagination don't you?" She wasn't sure but she thought she heard a faint chuckle. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, that's okay. I should go. I'm sorry for waking you"

"How about some company then?"

"Company?"

"You said you couldn't sleep, right?"

"Right."

"So get in." She barely had time to process what he had said before he drew back the covers and shuffled over to make room for her.

"Excuse me?"

"I promise no funny business. This way you'll be able to sleep without worrying about me being in mortal peril."

She knew she had gone crazy because without any more persuasion than that, she climbed in next to him and he drew the cover up over her shoulders. She expected to feel extremely uncomfortable but instead she felt entirely relaxed and after a little wriggling to get comfortable, she closed her eyes knowing that Michael Hodgins was sleeping right next to her and that they were both completely safe.

* * *

Angela was about to have a heart attack. She had breezed into Michael's room this morning expecting to find Christine sleeping peacefully but instead she had found an empty bed. Straight away she had checked each of her daughter's bedrooms one by one starting with Pippa, then Molly, then Lily. Christine wasn't in any of the girl's room's. She checked Michael's bathroom as well as the other bathroom and then went downstairs feeling quite crazed and re-checked both sitting rooms, the dining room and the kitchen as well as outside on the back patio and the front porch. She had almost started to hyperventilate. If Booth found out that Angela had lost his only daughter, he would go insane. She knew that Christine and Michael hadn't already left yet because it was only a little before seven and his jeep was still in the driveway, blocked in by her own car. That was when she thought to check the attic. Maybe Michael would know where Christine was. Or maybe they were already awake and hanging out in the attic? She almost scoffed at that idea. She knew as well and Brennan and Booth that Michael and Christine practically hated each other. They obviously thought they hid it well but for years it had been a long running joke between herself and her husband as well as Booth. Her best friend merely frowned whenever anyone made mention of it and didn't seem to understand the joke. They had all been more than a little surprised last night to find Michael in Christine's room and Angela herself was amazed when Michael had decided to play the part of the chivalrous knight in shining armour and offer to accompany Christine home and drive her back to the campus. Nevertheless, she was out of options so she made her way up the stairs, past his bedroom and her own and up the other set of stairs that led to the attic. She pushed open his door and had to choke back a gasp at the sight before her. She had found Christine alright. Her eyes were closed and a faint smile tilted up the corners of her mouth as if she was dreaming about something amusing. She wore her snoopy pyjamas and was lay across Michael chest, her small hand resting over his heart and his own larger hand covered hers. He lay perfectly still with his other arm around her shoulders. If she wasn't so confused and infuriated she would have been touched at the sight before her. They looked peaceful and fit together so naturally. It was what Angela had dreamed about when her best friend had given birth to a baby girl eighteen years ago but under the circumstances she was less than thrilled about finding her son and her best friend's daughter in bed together. If Booth was here right now, Michael's head would have already been separated from his neck, and she clutched her own throat at the very thought. What was she to do? Michael was nineteen and Christine was eighteen. Both consenting adults. Not that Angela suspected they'd done the deed. Maybe they had fallen asleep talking and accidentally assumed an early morning lovers pose? She lingered in the doorway wondering what to do next when Michael's alarm began screeching at a decibel so high she wondered how the windows weren't shattered. She jumped and then swivelled round and headed back down the stairs before Michael or Christine could notice her, almost tripping down the last two steps in her haste. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks even though she knew it was ridiculous for her to be embarrassed and she was so distracted she almost collided with her husband who suddenly appeared out of the doorway of their bedroom.

Jack Hodgins kissed his wife on her cheek, a sweet gesture that had become part of their morning greeting over the years. "You look startled", he said as he made his way along the landing towards the stairs. He turned in confusion to his wife who remained in the same spot seemingly dazed. "Are you coming down for breakfast?"

"Yes", she said snapping out of it. "We need coffee".

* * *

Christine was awakened by something warm wriggling underneath her. As she opened her eyes and let things come into focus, she realized it was the warm body of Michael Hodgins beneath her and the events of the night before came flooding back to her memory.

"Oh, God!" She jumped up and off the bed as though she'd been burned. She was all too aware that she stood before this handsome boy, no - man, who had probably had his share of attractive women, in a pair of snoopy pyjamas - which included little hot pant style bottoms and hair that, instead of being attractively rumpled, stuck up and out in all sorts of directions. Before she even consulted a mirror, she could already guess that her skin was sallow and her eyes were probably ringed with dark circles from her recent lack of sleep and she had to resist the urge to sprint out of his attic.

"What's the matter?" He asked as though he found himself in these kinds of situations all the time – although for all she knew, maybe he did! He began to smile sensing her awkwardness and rolled out of bed shaking his head and grinning as he made his way over to a coat rack which held a couple of different overalls and a dark blue silk robe. He grabbed the robe and handed it to her before turning his back so she could slip into it. After a few seconds he turned and looked her up and down. "There's nothing to be ashamed of under that robe you know".

Her face flamed crimson. "And how in the hell would you know? You're such a jerk!" With that she stormed out of his room and down the stairs, then across the landing into Michaels room where she should have slept last night and closed the door. She knew there was nothing insulting about what he'd just said, only slightly sleazy. Her childish outburst had been absolutely ridiculous and she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her as she came to the realisation that she, Christine Angela Booth, liked Michael Staccato Vincent Hodgins!

Christine felt slightly queasy as she found her place at the breakfast table and bit into her slice of whole-wheat toast. "I can't believe you didn't wake me last night Christine!" Pippa pulled out her chair and reached for the orange juice. "It wasn't that late and you could have crashed in my room anyway. Michael's boudoir is probably a sweaty cesspit of unwashed linen and remnants of teenage hormones!"

"Watch it smart mouth", Michael told his sister as he lightly clipped her round the head and took his seat across from Christine and began filling his plate with pancakes and scrambled eggs. Christine thought it figured that he could eat like a pig and still have perfectly sculpted abs.

"So what was it like to find that bloody finger in your room?" Pippa's eyes lit up at the prospect of hearing all the gory details but was cut off by her father.

"I hardly think that's the kind of talk for over breakfast Pippa. Can we talk about something else please? Like your biology paper?"

"Dad!" Pippa rolled her eyes and took the grungy red band that was around her thin wrist to assemble her hair on top of head. Pippa was sixteen years old and resembled Jack Hodgins in every possible way from her love of bugs and dirt to her ice blue eyes and head of thick golden brown curly locks. "School only just started and it's half-finished already".

Jack Hodgins and his wife exchanged amused looks with each other, knowing full well that their eldest daughter's scholastic achievements had never been an issue, before he grabbed his coffee to go. "I'm going to be late". He kissed Angela goodbye before placing a peck on Pippa's cheek and shouting goodbye to Molly and Lily who were still hogging the bathroom upstairs. "Be careful Christine, although I'm sure Michael will take good care of you".

"Thanks Uncle Jack. I'll be fine". Christine finished her toast whilst avoiding eye contact with Michael.

"Shouldn't you two be off by now?" Asked Angela as she handed both Christine and Michael take away coffee cups.

"Yep. Let's go". Michael stood abruptly and went upstairs to retrieve his bag and jacket.

"Promise me you will be careful and come straight back with Michael when your last class ends".

"I promise Aunty Ange. Thanks for breakfast and for everything else you've done".

"You know it's no problem. You're family! Oh and it's enchiladas for dinner: not to be missed".

"Ok, I promise". Christine reached for her own bag and checked she had her iPod and phone before slipping into her own jacket and grabbing her coffee.

"And", said Pippa excitedly and she carried her plate to the sink, "Promise we will catch up later. I haven't seen you in weeks".

"I promise Pip. You'll have my full attention after dinner tonight".

"Ready?" Michael lingered in the hallway and Christine followed him out to his car and jumped into the passenger's seat as soon as he activated the automated locking system. Before he had a chance to even speak she shoved in her ear phones and turned up her music to full blast to make the drive to school a little less painful. Michael didn't argue and instead slipped on his shades and put the car into drive.

* * *

As soon as Michael parked his car and switched off the engine, Christine threw off her seat belt and jumped out of the passenger side door. She threw her bag on her shoulder and tried to avoid any conversation but she wasn't that lucky. "Wait Christine", Michael called to her slamming his own door and making his way around the car. "We need to arrange to meet back here. I have a meeting with one of my professors, is five ok?"

"Sure", she answered whilst staring right past his soulful eyes and trying her best not to blush whilst recalling his warm body beneath her own".

"Make sure you're not alone today at any point and keep an eye out for anyone suspicious. If you get a feeling you're being followed or someone is watching you call me straight away. Promise me".

"If I get the feeling I'm being followed or watched by someone, I'll call my father – the F.B.I agent, not you". She turned to leave but he grabbed her arm and she was forced to turn back and face him.

"Hey! You're the one that came to my room. You're the one that climbed into bed with me. You're the one making this weird". He breathed an exasperated sigh and Christine looked away from him, not quite knowing what to say in response but luckily she didn't have to say anything else. As if the universe was sending her a lifeline, she saw Rachel heading straight toward them. When Michael followed her gaze, he quickly let go of her, even though his grasp on her had been nothing but gentle to begin with. "I'll see you later. Remember: five sharp. Back here".

"Hi Michael", Rachel managed, her sunny disposition radiating from her, before Michael was out of ear shot.

"Hi", he mumbled before he disappeared into the throng of students crowding the quad.

"Shall we grab pick-me-up before class?" Asked Rachel as she linked arms with Christine and began steering her toward the coffee cart without waiting for an answer.

Whilst Christine sat in the middle of three hundred students in her last class of the day listening to her professor give a less than riveting lecture about the concepts and methodologies of psychology in areas of social development, she once again thought about the night before. Why had she gone up to the attic like a damsel in distress just because she'd had a bad dream? And why had she crawled into bed with Michael? It had been a monumentally stupid thing to do and what was worse was that she had blamed him for the whole thing and ignored him on their ride this morning like an ungrateful and spoiled child. She could kick herself! She slowly let her eyes drift shut and relived the thrill of standing over Michael and deciding whether to slide under the covers with him and have one restful night's sleep knowing he wasn't being brutally attacked and murdered. She wanted to shut her eyes without having to keep opening them to check the bedroom door was still shut, without having to scan the room and make sure there was no one lurking in the shadows or to have to strain her ears and make sure there was only silence she heard. She wanted to shut her eyes and curl up next to the warm body of the boy she had known for eighteen year who was suddenly becoming someone entirely different to her than the annoying little boy who pulled her hair or the arrogant teenage all-star who pretended she didn't exist. She wanted – her phone vibrated and she almost jumped out of her seat. Thankfully no one seemed to have noticed and she slipped it out of her pocket and read the text message from Rachel.

_Sorry. Can't hang out till five - forgot about study session with the girls. Will you be ok? _Christine quickly replied.

_No worries - will be fine. Will just finish some research at the library till five._

* * *

Christine put away the last of the pile of books she had spread out around her and tucked her notes safely into her folder. She looked at her watch and it read four, fifty. She grabbed her bag and her carry on which held fresh clothes she had retrieved earlier from her dorm and decided to make her way back across campus to meet Michael. As she headed out of the library and began the short walk over to the car park she tightened her scarf around her neck as the early evening chill seemed to percolate through her clothing. She noticed that the sky was already beginning to darken which she told herself she should get used to now that fall had arrived. The bitter wind blew through the trees lining the pavement and shook the browning leaves causing some to fall to the ground and crunch underneath her stride. She took out her phone from the small pocket of her too thin jacket and checked to see if there were any messages from her parents. There was nothing except a text from Pippa.

_Can't wait to catch up! How long will you be? _

Christine smiled to herself and was about to reply when another text message made her phone buzz. It was from an unknown number which she thought was strange so she opened up the message and after reading it, froze in horror.

_Did you pass along my message to your mother?_

Christine let out an unexpected whimper and forced herself to look round but there was nothing except an empty street which made sense since everyone else was smart enough to travel in groups or with police patrols. She took a jagged breath inwards and carried on walking but picked up her pace still frantically looking around for a sign that someone was following her or watching. Her phone buzzed again and she opened up the message.

_Walking all by yourself with a murderer on the loose. I though the brain child of Dr. Brennan knew better than that._

Christine felt tears streaming down her frozen cheeks and she went even faster not daring to look behind her. Her phone buzzed again.

_I can get to you anywhere Christine._

She cried out and began running. This couldn't be happening to her. She heard leaves crunching behind her and she knew she couldn't stop. She was almost there. She carried on, the wind whistling in her ears. She was going so fast that when Michael appeared she collided with him but she didn't care. She had never been so happy to see anyone in her life!

"Whoa. Christine what's wrong?"

"Michael someone was after me".

"What?" He darted his eyes around the half empty car park but there was no one in sight. "Who? Where did they go?" She clung to his chest and he grabbed her shoulders to steady her.

"I don't know but I heard someone. And look." She thrust her phone at him and he read the messages before opening the passenger door and helping her inside. He hurried round the car and jumped in the driver's seat then handed back her phone.

"Call your Dad. Tell him we're on our way to meet him at the F.B.I building".


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you once again for the reviews. I recieved a review from someone named Jane who requested Chapter 5 as a Birthday wish. Well, here it is Jane! Chapter 5! Wishes really do come true! Get ready for a thrill and a little bit of fluff :P Read, enjoy and review :) xoxo P.S. Don't hate me for any spelling or grammatical errors! I am very sleepy and have quickly proof read this chapter so if there are any mistakes please forgive me!**

* * *

"What else did you see Christine?"

"Nothing, I didn't see anything. I just heard someone behind me."

"Is it possible that it was just leaves rustling in the wind and you mistakenly thought someone was following you?"

"No! They messaged me. How did they get my number? They knew I was alone. How did they know that if they weren't following me? If they couldn't see me?"

Agent Lundy looked from Christine to her Father who was positioned in the chair right next to her and then to her mother who sat on her other side.

"I think the real question is what were you doing alone?" Her father was infuriated and she supposed he had every right to be.

"Dad, I'm sorry. I thought I would be alright if I just went to the library for a couple of hours to do some research. I wasn't even thinking."

"Well you need to think Christine! There's a killer out there who knows who you are and apparently where you are and is trying to get to you."

"Booth." interjected her mother who placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Christine your Father and I are worried. We can't protect you if we don't know where you are or who you're with."

"Listen", Agent Lundy interrupted from across the large oval table in the interview room, "There's nothing more we can do for tonight. The tech guys have looked at your phone but as we thought the messages came from a pre-paid phone and we weren't able to get a trace. The best thing for you to do is to go home and lay low for a few days".

"Thanks Tom". Her father shook Agent Lundy's hand and led Christine and her mother out of the room.

"You're coming home with us Christine." Her father told her matter of factly.

"Dad" –

"Booth", her Mother jumped in. "The killer will be expecting Christine to go home. Won't it be safer if she goes back to Angela's? Plus you and I need to keep working on this case. It won't be truly safe for her until we find the killer." Booth seemed to mull this over for a minute before closing his eyes and letting out and long sigh.

"Fine but I want hourly updates so I know you're safe".

"Ok, I promise." Booth reached for his daughter and enveloped her in another one of his bear hugs.

"I just want you to be safe".

"I know Dad".

"I should get back to the lab but I'll call you later", her Mother kissed her cheek. "Be safe".

"I will Mom".

Just as her mother rounded the corner on her way to the elevator Christine spotted her Uncle Sweets appear reading a mound of notes before he looked up and spotted Christine and Agent Booth.

"Christine, are you ok?" He asked as he too pulled her forward for a somewhat gentler embrace than her father.

"I'm ok Uncle Sweets".

"You got anything?" Her Father addressed the F.B.I's best profiler.

"Well, there's not that much to go on at this point since we've got no suspects. But the killer displays an arrogant attitude which suggests they're covering there tracts well which we already know since they are leaving very little evidence. These were more than just crimes of passion. The killer went to the trouble of following Christine, obtaining a pre-paid phone and leaving messages for us trying to toy with everyone. This was all pre meditated. We have two male victims so far so the killer could be female but there's no solid proof. It would seem, however, that the killer doesn't want to hurt Christine, at least not at this point. They've had several opportunities to do so but instead they've used those opportunities to scare her or let you know that they're in control. This is all a game to them".

"So who should I be looking at Sweets?"

"Definitely someone with a high IQ, someone that attends American University, possibly female. I'd start by interviewing everyone in the Anderson building and go from there. I'll observe and see if I can't help spot someone who might fit the killer's profile."

"Okay, thanks Sweets."

"No problem, and Christine, don't worry we'll catch whoevers doing this".

"I know you will."

"So, how's classes? I here Professor Stark is going to be a guest speaker this semester. We were in the same abnormal psychology class in college."

"I'll be sure to name drop when I see him then." Sweets laughed and stopped as they reached the elevator.

"Well, you know who to call if you ever need any help writing papers or with anything".

"Oh, geez". Her Father looked pained as he held open the elevator door for Christine.

"You mock me Booth but I had you and Brennan figured out the second I met you".

Christine laughed and stepped inside the elevator. Her Uncle Sweets loved to tease her parents and had spent most of the last twenty something years on Booth's back trying to solve any relationship issues they had ever had.

"You should thank him you know", Christine teased her father as the elevator pinged and they made their way to the car park.

"Why's that?" He asked looking amused as he unlocked his car and they both jumped in.

"Because, do you know how much couples counselling costs these days? You and Mom have a free therapist at your disposal all these years. You probably owe him thousands of dollars by now."

Booth laughed and clicked in his seat belt. "You're probably right but Sweets just can't help himself". Booth put the car into gear and exited the car park onto Pennsylvania Avenue Northwest and began their drive to Jack and Angela's house in Dupont Circle.

* * *

Doctor Brennan looked at her watch which read almost nine o'clock. She should have been home by now writing the newest chapter of her latest book to keep her occupied or crashed out on the sofa with Booth whilst they both ate Chinese takeout and talked about how nice it was to finally have an empty house whilst both secretly mourning the absence of their daughter, as they probably would for the next four years. Instead she was at the Jeffersonian going over the set of remains with Cam who had just joined her on the brightly lit platform to once again examine the remains.

"There is a perfusion of perimortem bone damage to the arms and the torso on both victims as well as a skull fracture on victim number two Kevin Williamson." Doctor Brennan observed as she bent forward and directed the large magnifying glass to get a better look.

Cam frowned. "Could you direct the magnifying glass over the left costal margin please?" She asked as she reached for her gloves and squinted and what she saw. "Based on staining of surrounding tissue I'd say cause of death was a punctured aorta; he bled out."

"It seems that the compound fracture to the victim two's left seventh rib could be what punctured his aorta. Since most of these fractures seem to have occurred perimortem or post mortem, it most likely occurred when our victim was ran over by the car. Once to kill him and again once he was dead which would explain the breaks to his legs and his scull which seem to have occurred post mortem."

Cam stood upright. "Doctor Hodgins found traces on the victim which, when he ran them through the mass spec, turned out to be chromium."

"Which is an element that most car bumpers are plated with", Brennan concurred.

"Exactly. Doesn't really give us much to go on but we'll keep looking."

"You don't have to stay late Cam. Really, I appreciate it but I can call you if I find anything. Plus, I thought Michelle and Finn were visiting for the weekend."

"They are. They're out to dinner with the kid's and Paul's on a late shift at the hospital so I told them I'd see them a little later. Besides, I want to help. Someone threatens one of us, they threaten all of us. That's the way it is Doctor Brennan".

"Thanks Cam."

"So how is Christine?"

"She's doing ok. She was a little shaken up but Booth has taken her back to Angela's. We thought she'd be safer there than at our house where she might be expected to go."

"Well, I think that's a good idea. Doctor Hodgins and Angela will keep her safe and you know Booth would never let anything happen to Christine."

"I know. I just want to solve this case."

"And we will Doctor Brennan. Let's keep looking."

* * *

Christine blinked back tears as her grief washed over her in waves. She was used to hearing about death given both of her parents professions but no matter how many times she saw it or heard about it, nothing could stop her from feeling broken hearted at the moment a person closed their eyes and bid farewell to this life and the ones they loved. She reached for a tissue to dab away the salty liquid that ran down her cheeks. Pippa turned on the lights and then made her way over to the DVD player to eject the disc and replace The Notebook back in its case and slotted it into its rightful place on the mahogany DVD cabinet.

"Sorry Chris. Was that a bad movie choice?"

"Are you kidding? I love that movie Pip."

"Ok, good." Pippa smiled as she joined Christine on the sofa of the family room. "So, how are you feeling?"

"I'm ok Pip."

"Really? When Michael came home and told us what had happened, he said you were pretty freaked out."

"Oh. Well, I'm fine now, I promise." Christine assured her friend.

"I think he likes you." Pippa said with a sly look forming itself on her face and a glint in her eye.

"What?" Christine blushed furiously and almost choked out her words. "Why would you say that Pippa. He does not!"

"I know my brother and I see what I see. He looks at you all the time. It's different than before."

"That's crazy Pip."

"Mom thinks so too."

"What? You mean you have talked about this with your mother?"

"Christine. Don't freak out. So what if Michael likes you." Pippa eyed Christine suspiciously before something seemed to dawn on her. "You don't… like him back do you?"

"Pippa! No. Of course not and can we please stop talking about this?"

"Whatever you say Chris." Pippa teetered off and grabbed her phone to check for messages and Christine breathed a sigh of relief as she reached for the bowl of popcorn. Was her liking for Michael Hodgins that transparent? She told herself it was just Pippa's imagination running wild again.

"Hey, if you and Michael got married, you'd be my sister for real!"

"Pip, I really don't know why you're looking into the field of entomology when you should be considering creative writing. You obviously have an overactive imagination if you think for one second Michael and I could be a couple."

"Don't be ridiculous Christine. So what if you and Michael hate each other. It's how all the great romances begin you know. Just look at Mister Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet…now that was a match made in heaven!" Christine had to laugh at that.

"You are unbelievable Pippa Hodgins", she told her friend and she playfully hit her with the soft cushion that had been sat in her lap. Pippa laughed and then stood.

"It's getting late. I should be getting off the bed before Dad comes in and starts quizzing me about my biology paper again. Are you sure you don't want to crash in my room?"

"Michael insists I stay in his room. He thinks I won't get any sleep if I bunk with you and something tells me he's right."

"Very funny", Pippa said and was about to go one before Michael entered the room and she gave Christine a pointed wink and wished them both goodnights.

"Hi", he said tentatively as he closed the door behind Pippa and moved over to the couch.

"Hi", was all Christine could manage after her conversation with Pippa. Michael sat down at the other end of the sofa after reaching for the remote and switched on the news. Immediately a picture of the grotty dumpster where the first victim on campus was found flashed across the screen and then switched to a pretty red haired news reporter who supposedly had the latest on the campus murders.

"_Local Police and now F.B.I investigators say they have yet to uncover any forensic evidence linking anyone to the crime. However, we have been told that both victims were sophomores attending American University, 19 year old Peter Cummings was the first victim to be found by students on campus who found his body a week ago followed by the body of 19 year old Kevin Williamson who was found next to a dumpster outside the Letts Building, where he was house with several other students, three days ago. With no suspects or leads, students and parents alike are starting to ask themselves 'Is this campus a safe place to be with a supposed killer on the loose?' Police patrols of the campus have been initiated and so far no other victims have been discovered."_

Michael shut off the television and tossed the remote beside him on the couch before turning to Christine. "You know you're safe here, right? You don't have to worry."

Christine had the distinct feeling he was saying more so to reassure himself rather than her so she smiled and told him what he wanted to hear. "Of course. Its late, I'm going to go to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

* * *

Christine quickly showered and then brushed her teeth and applied her moisturiser. She noticed that Michael was right. His bathroom was impeccably clean and she once again thought about what a surprise he had turned out to be. She ran her brush through her hair and then set the alarm that sat on Michael's bedside table. She figured she could afford herself some extra shut eye since she didn't plan on attending her classes tomorrow so she set the alarm for nine am. Agent Lundy had told her to lay low so she had decided to take a couple of days off and instead her professors had agreed to email her some notes under the circumstances. It was half past midnight so she slipped off her night gown under which she wore her satin pink pyjama camisole top and shorts and turned off the small lamp which also sat on the bedside table before burying herself under the thick duvet and bed spread which adorned Michael's bed. She closed her eyes and drifted into a deep sleep.

Christine awoke with a chill and pulled her duvet further up her shoulders only to realise it was the wrong colour. This duvet was cream like the one in her dorm room so she slowly sat up and looked around, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness for a moment. She realised she was in her bed in her dorm room. She could have sworn she had fallen asleep somewhere else, although she couldn't quite remember where. She pivoted to swing her legs out of bed and slowly let her feet touch the cool floor. That was odd; she could have sworn her dorm room floor was carpeted too. This one was hard and cold like stone. She turned once again to realise she was now outside. Her bed and her belongings had disappeared to make way for the Anderson Building that towered in front of her. She was confused and cold. Where was her dressing gown when she needed it? She didn't remember walking outside but here she was staring straight ahead at the main entrance. She thought she heard something but she was disoriented and she couldn't tell where it was coming from. The wind blew and chilled her to the bone and she stood still trying to listen. She thought she heard footsteps behind her. She turned swiftly but no one was there. She heard a rustling off to her right and she turned again but still nothing.

"_Christine"_. She turned again. This time a full three sixty degree turn but she was alone.

"_Christine."_ There it was again, almost a jagged whisper. _"Christine"._

She concentrated hard and realised the sound was coming from her right. She began walking in the direction of the trees positions at the right side of the building and the voice kept calling.

"_Christine."_

It was almost a hiss now. She carried on and found herself edging closer and closer to the side of the building. This seemed familiar to her but she couldn't work out why. She stood at the mouth of the narrow alley now and if she squinted she could see the dark grey dumpster piled high with trash bags.

"_Christine."_

She moved closer, taking small footsteps as she went. She had a chilling feeling that there was something hiding at the other side of the dumpster out of sight that she was supposed to find.

"_Christine"._

She began to whimper as fear struck her but she carried on inching closer and closer to the dumpster. She stopped as she neared it and closed her eyes trying to gather enough courage to peer around the other side. As she did so, she screamed. At least she thought she had. She knew she was screaming but there was no sound and she began to panic and her tears streamed. The cold and lifeless body of Michael Hodgins lay propped against the side of the dumpster. His usual olive complexion had been replaced by one so pale it looked almost tinged with grey. His once warm hazel eyes were shut and in his blooded hand was a small rumpled note with her name written on it in bold black letters. She bent down to retrieve it and as she did she noticed that most of his body looked crushed as if something heavy had run over him. As she brought the note closer to read it she let out several wails as hot tears splashed the bloodied paper. She turned it over and read the message that had been left for her.

_I can get to you anywhere Christine._

"No", she heard herself cry before she heard the voice again, only this time it was no whisper. It was clear and it sounded like Michael.

"Christine".

But that was impossible. His limp body lay before her and his lips were not moving.

"Christine".

She continued to cry. "Michael, I'm so sorry".

"Christine!"

She inhaled and felt herself jolted awake and gasped when she saw Michael peering over her. He sat next to where she lay with her upper arms grasped by his warm hands and his brow furrowed.

"Christine. Are you ok?"

"Yes. What are you doing in here?"

"I heard you crying and I was trying to wake you up. You were having a bad dream. You kept saying my name. You kept saying 'Sorry Michael' ".

"I was?"

"Yes. What were you dreaming about?"

"I" –

Luckily she was interrupted by Pippa who Christine was just noticing stood in the doorway. "Is she ok Michael?" She directed the question at her brother.

He turned to his sister. "She'll be fine; could you get her some water please?"

"Sure", Pippa turned on her heel and Christine heard her retreat down the stairs to the kitchen.

"Here, sit up", he said as he inched back and made room for her to lift herself up right. He switched on the dim lamp on the bedside table and kept a fixed stare on her. She could tell he was about to say something when they both heard a piercing scream coming from downstairs. They both bolted up and ran onto the landing and down the stairs and into the kitchen where Pippa stood surrounded by shattered glass and a puddle of water. Michael ran to her and grabbed her shoulders to shake her out of her shocked silence. Jack and Angela also appeared in the kitchen to find out what the commotion was all about.

"What's going on?" Asked Jack still bleary eyed.

"Sweetie, what's the matter?" Angele rushed to her eldest daughter's side exchanging looks with Michael and Jack.

It only took them all a matter of seconds to realise what had frightened Pippa. They felt the biting of the cool night air and all turned in unison to see that the in the kitchen which opened out onto the back patio was wide open.

"What the hell!" Jack Hodgins rushed to the door and bolted it before rushing into the hallway to check his homes security system. "Somebody disabled it." He shouted from the hallway before appearing back in the doorway of the kitchen.

Angela's eyes widened at her husband. "Molly and Lily".

"Wait here." Jack told his wife as he darted back up the stairs. Michael followed his father after reaching for a large knife and placing it in his mother's hands. After a few seconds, both men returned with Michael's sisters and they both rushed to their mother's side. Michael reached for Christine and led her into the small sitting room off the kitchen switching on a standing lamp as he did. His mother and his sisters followed and sat next to Christine on the large sofa where Michael had seated her. "Wait here again", said Jack exchanging glances with his son. "Michael and I need to check the house. Angela call the police." Michael handed her the house phone that sat on the coffee table before he disappeared with his father.

During Angela's hysterical 911 phone call, Pippa and her sisters talked frantically amongst their selves strategically darting glances around the room and staring at the ceiling whenever they heard movement from upstairs. Christine sat in silence. She felt a stone cold tingling in her spine that slowly travelled around her whole body. Had the killer been in the house? Was the killer still in the house? Were they safe even now? What about while she had been sleeping? Had the killer been in Michael's room? Had this very person who had been toying with her been so close to her tonight that they could have ended her life? That last thought brought Michael's dead lifeless body to her mind and she squeezed her eyes shut trying to ward of the horrible image. Were her dreams some sort of bad omen? Why was Michael always injured or dead in her dreams? Was he really in danger? Just then he appeared in the doorway with his Jack.

"All clear", Michael told all of them and he made his way over to Christine and wedged himself in between her and Pippa and paced her cold hand inside his warm palm.

"Are the police on their way?" Jack asked his wife and he knelt down in front of her and reached for his youngest daughter Lily, who crushed herself against her father's side with a fearful look in her eye.

"I should leave." The words came out of Christine's mouth before she even realised she'd spoken them and everyone looked at her expectantly. She let go of Michael's hand and stood in front of them all feeling like she was about ready to have a nervous breakdown.

"Christine what are you talking about?" Michael was the first to ask.

"I'm serious." She answered on a shriller note than she intended. "This is because of me! The killer is trying to toy with me and now you're all in danger so I should leave. They want me so they can have me. There's no reason any of you should get hurt in the process." Christine was about to go on with her speech when she noticed a small piece of square paper on the floor near the doorway. Distracted, she took the few strides needed to reach the paper and picked it up, and as she did so she realised it wasn't a piece of paper but a small Polaroid. She flipped it and exhaled a jagged breath at the picture and its caption. Michael stalked over to her and snatched it from her grasp. It was a picture of Michael; he was sat in the quad eating lunch with his friends. It had been taken earlier that day. Christine could tell because he was wearing the same red t-shirt and jeans he had been wearing earlier on. The caption read:

_He's next!_

Michael tossed the picture at his father so he could take a look and turned to Christine. "Rest easy Chris. You're not the one this sick bastard is after. Now that's enough talk about leaving. You're not going anywhere so sit down."

* * *

Christine was finally ready to close her eyes and sleep. After a couple of dim witted police officers had searched the house and assured everyone it was all clear, her father had come storming in and made a stink. He had demanded police patrols around the neighbourhood as well as a police car to be permanently stationed outside of Jack and Angela's house. The alarm system was once again up and running and Booth, although having gotten the green light on hourly police patrols and a stationed officer, was now stationed outside the house himself in his F.B.I issue Toyota with a bag of potato chips and several take away coffees provided by Angela. The house was finally quiet and everyone was sleeping peacefully now that it was almost four am. Everyone except Christine and Michael, who was lay right next her in a sleeping bag on his bedroom floor. He had insisted on it after the uproar only hours earlier. Christine tried to drift into a peaceful sleep but having Michael so close only reminded her of the horrifying dream she had had about him. She turned towards the window but was uncomfortable so she turned again so that she lay on her back staring up at the ceiling. She started to feel flushed so she sat up and turned her pillow onto the cold side and then lay back. She tried counting back from a hundred but when she reached thirteen she concluded it was a waste of time and she let out an exasperated sigh.

"What's the matter with you?" She jumped at Michael's voice and then relaxed.

"I can't sleep".

"That's not a huge surprise considering what's happened tonight". She heard a rustle and was immediately on alert.

"What was that noise?"

"Would you relax a little? I was just adjusting this sleeping bag".

"Oh."

"Christine?"

"Yes?"

"What were you dreaming about earlier? Why were you calling my name?"

"It doesn't matter".

"Tell me", he urged sounding intrigued.

"I can't…"

"Please. Please!"

"Fine! I keep having these weird dreams".

"What about?"

"Well don't flatter yourself, it's not like I'm dreaming about you naked or anything." She heard that old husky chuckle of his and went on. "Since the killings started I keep having these dreams about you."

"What am I doing in your dream?"

"You're… hurt or sometimes dead."

"Oh." He seemed lost for words and straight away she sat up and regretted sharing such information with him under the present circumstances.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

"Christine. Don't freak out. It's just a dream."

"But what about earlier? What about the picture and the note Michael?"

"At least there'd be nobody left to irritate you, right?" He half joked.

"Michael, I'm serious! I don't" – she had started now so she had to keep going. "I don't want you to get hurt."

There was silence for a moment and she thought she had said the wrong thing until she felt the bed sink down next to her and as she turned her face it met with his.

"Hey", he said and she turned on her side to face him. There was only an inch of free space between them but Christine didn't feel panicked or like blushing furiously or like slapping him for his sheer nerve for crawling into bed with her. She felt oddly calm. "Nothing's going to happen to me. I'll be right here. So close your eyes and go to sleep."

She didn't argue. She did exactly as he said and closed her eyes and as she did so he reached for her hand. She didn't snatch it back, she just held on tight as a faint smile reached her lips.


	6. Chapter 6

Christine opened one eye, and then the other. She smiled at the sight before her. Michael lay facing her with his eyes closed and framed by thick dark lashes. His hand was still wrapped around hers and the dark green t-shirt he wore was rumpled. Although she felt a warm tingle and longed to close her eyes and fall back to sleep she didn't want to push their luck so she gently slipped her warm palm out of his grasp being careful not to wake him and grabbed a fresh change of clothes before quietly slipping into the bathroom. She dressed in her dark denim straight legged jeans with an emerald green knit sweater and a pair of dark brown ugg boots. She brushed her teeth and assembled her hair in a knotted bun at the nape of her neck before applying a swipe of pink lip gloss and dusted her Chanel rose bronzer across the apples of her cheeks. She wondered if she'd over done it, after all, she didn't want Michael thinking she was going out of her way to grab his attention. After an inner debate she decided she looked ok so she headed back into Michaels bedroom where he still lay sleeping and tip toed onto the landing and down the stairs to the kitchen. Christine realised she was the first one up since it was deadly silent. She glance at the kitchen clock which read eight, twenty five and she switched on the coffee maker after filling it with water. Everyone else was no doubt exhausted after their eventful night and it was Saturday morning, but Christine felt oddly calm and awake. After filling a large mug with strong coffee and a drop of cream she headed outside to where her Father was dozing in the front seat that was positioned at a reclining slant. She wrapped twice on the window and startled her father who swiftly jumped up and reached for his gun.

"Whoa, it's just me."

Booth exhaled and then relaxed winding down the window and accepting the mug of coffee she had almost spilled at the prospect of being shot by her father. "Thanks honey. Get in." Booth opened the passenger door and Christine walked around the front of his car and jumped in. "What are you doing out of the house anyway? I thought I told you to stay inside."

"Relax", she was about to launch into a rant about her personal safety but stopped, feeling guilty, after noticing the dark rings around her father's tired eyes. "I'm sorry I should be more careful."

Booth reached for his daughters hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Did you sleep?"

"More than you did by the looks of things. You need to go home and get some rest Dad, I'll be ok."

"I can't. Not whilst you and Michael are in danger like this."

"Do you really think Michael's in danger?"

"This person has already killed two 19-year-old males who were both sophomores attending American University. Michael fits the profile and his safety has been threatened. We have to take that seriously so for now you both need to lay low and be careful."

"Well, when you say it like that…" Christine sighed, the calm she previously felt seemed to vanish leaving only a dull uneasy feeling behind.

Christine and Booth both lent back on their head rests observing the Hodgins' house that stood before them. From the outside it looked very safe. The solid red brick exterior had always seemed like a fortress to Christine when she was little, much like her own house had. The heavy mahogany front door was surrounded by pretty white trellises covered in neatly trimmed ivy. The large bay windows gleamed and on either side were dark green shutters. An ivory wood porch swing sat in front of the living room window and was surrounded by several pretty potted gardenia plants. Booth's car was parked on the driveway behind Michael's car and the family's other vehicles were safely tucked away in the large garage that was built onto the left side of the large residence. Before last night Christine would never have worried about the suburban home of the people she considered her family being violated, but now, she knew it was possible. Jack Hodgins was extremely angry and had demanded that the security company pay a visit to their house that afternoon to inspect the high tech system after it had been breached by whatever psycho was stalking Christine and making death threats towards Michael. Jack and Angela had also talked about temporarily moving into the large mansion on the other side of the City that belonged to Jack's family. The garage there could hold over twelve cars and had an apartment built over the top of it with two bedrooms, a kitchen, a den and a living room. People often wondered why Jack Hodgins, who was the sole heir to the Cantilever Group, chose to toil in academia rather than spend time in the high social society to which his wealth entitled him but he had never cared about money or social stature after having been bullied in high school carrying around the stigma of a "rich boy". Anyone who knew the entomologist who seemed to moonlight as a conspiracy theorist would have found the very idea that he was the largest financial donor to the Jeffersonian Institute where he had chosen to work for the last quarter of a century rather ridiculous but Jack Hodgins was content with his beautiful wife, his four children and their modest suburban home along with his Toyota Prius and original mini tucked safely away in his garage. Christine smiled to herself before turning to regard her father who looked as though he was trying desperately to keep both eyes open.

"Dad, I promise to behave today. Go home and get some rest. Aren't you interviewing students this afternoon?"

"Yes. Okay I'll go but the patrol car will be here and promise me you won't do anything stupid."

"I promise. Give Mom a kiss for me okay?"

"Okay." Booth gave his daughters cheek a quick peck and watched her make her way back inside before he backed out of the driveway to head back to his own home to try and catch a few winks before this afternoons interviews."

Michael rolled over and opened his eyes, instantly aware that Christine's side of the bed was vacant and the sheet was cold. He darted glances around the room and jumped out of bed. He opened the bathroom door but she wasn't in there either. He hurried into the hallway and opened Pippa's bedroom door to find her snoring under the covers. He checked Molly and Lilly's bedrooms too but they were all sleeping peacefully. He doubted very much that he was going to find Christine tucked in between his parents so instead he headed downstairs and checked his watch as he went, it was eight fifty. He padded into the kitchen but she wasn't there so he headed into the family room but that was empty too with the curtains still drawn. He was starting to panic so he called her name.

"Christine! Where are you?"

"Shhh, you're going to wake everybody up!" She scalded him appearing in the doorway.

He noticed that she looked good. She was wearing her brown uggs and some tight jeans and a sweater. Her hair was off her face – he liked it like that – and her lips were pink and glossy and matched her rosy cheeks. He realised he was staring so he inwardly told himself to snap out of it and remembered he was supposed to be mad for making him worry. "Did you just come from outside?" He raised his voice a little louder than he'd intended and she shushed him once again.

"I took my Dad some coffee. Relax."

"Oh, I woke up and you were gone."

She blushed. "Yeah, I woke up early so I went to check on my Dad. I just sent him home."

"Is the patrol car still there?" Michael rubbed his tired eyes.

"Yeah, they've been there all night too. They just switched officers. Do you want some coffee?" She asked moving past him into the kitchen so he followed her and lifted himself on a stool at the breakfast bar.

"Sure. Thanks."

She poured them each a mug and after adding cream and sugar she joined him at the breakfast bar, positioning herself across from him. They both sipped in silence for a few minutes.

"So, I was thinking that today we could do something fun, take your mind off things." He looked at her waiting for an answer.

"Like what? My Dad would flip if we left the house."

"Who said we have to leave the house?" He flashed his pearly whites and that old sly smiled spread across his face.

"Ok", she smiled. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, before we do anything, we need to eat." He stood and made his way over to the fridge and started retrieving eggs and milk and a host of other ingredients and swiftly grabbed a knife and chopping board. "You've never tried my omelettes and you are seriously missing out Chris."

"It's Christine!" But she was starting to get used to her nick name and somehow she didn't mind it as much when it rolled off his lips.

He laughed as he reached for a frying pan and his eyes met hers for a split second before he started chopping and mixing ingredients as if he had his own show on the cooking network. She watched him, admiring his confidence and fluidity as he went. She had a strange feeling that this was something she could get used to.

"So, when you went to retrieve the box you didn't see anything?" Seeley Booth sat across from Rachel, Christine's easy going roommate, who seemed dazed by the whole experience.

"No, like I said, there was a knock at the door so I opened it and saw the box on the floor. I looked down the hall both ways but there was nobody there so I picked it up and when I saw that Christine's name was on the front, I put it on her desk so she could open it when she got back."

"And can you think of anyone who would want to hurt Christine?"

"I don't think so. We don't know each other that well but she's a nice girl and people like her."

"So after you gave the box to Christine, what happened?"

"Well, she opened it and then screamed once she saw what was inside and dropped it onto her desk. I rushed over to see what it was and then Michael came back."

Booth sat up straighter in his chair. "What do you mean Michael came back?"

"He came back to the room. He'd just walked Christine back to our dorm but I guess he heard her scream a few seconds later and back to see if she was ok."

"Where had Christine been?"

"With Michael, after we all had dinner, he wanted to show her some of his art work."

Booth scowled inwardly. It was certainly interesting that Christine and Michael seemed to be spending more and more time around each other lately. He had always known they hadn't really liked each other, no matter how much they tried to hide it in front of other people, but something between them had changed. Booth made a mental note to mention it to his daughter the next time her saw her, especially since she and Michael were sleeping in the same house. Booth's thoughts began to wander to a place that made him want to snap the little twerp's neck and he quickly reeled them in, telling himself that Michael hadn't even done anything. He turned his attention back to the fidgety red-dead sat before him.

"Peter Cummings and Kevin Williamson. Do those names mean anything to you?"

"Of course, they are the two students that were murdered, right?"

"Right", Booth shifted in his chair. "What I mean is, did you know either of those students. Had you ever seen them? Talked to them? Had any friends in common?"

"No. I barely know anybody, especially not sophomores. Besides, they were pretty popular guys; I doubt they'd have even noticed me." Rachel blushed slightly and looked into her coffee cup. "My parents want me to go home but I told them that I'm perfectly safe." She looked up just them and her eyes met with Booth's. "I am perfectly safe aren't I Agent Booth?"

"Of course. There have been no threats made against you. I think we can call it a day Rachel. Thanks for answering my questions."

"Whatever I can do to help Michael and Christine." She smiled as Booth walked her to the elevator and pressed the button for the first floor."

"Do you have a ride back to campus?"

"Yes, thanks. I have my car parked in the lot."

Sweets exited the small room in which he had been sat observing the interviews taking place all morning and afternoon and took stride with Booth as they made their way to his office.

"What do you think?" Agent Booth asked Sweets referring to Christine's seemingly sweet roommate.

"Nothing out of the ordinary there. We should carry on with our interviews on Monday morning. Besides, I told Daisy I'd collect her from her Tai Chi class downtown."

"Tai Chi?" Booth cocked his eyebrow at Sweets.

"Don't ask Booth. You think Brennan's hard work? Daisy has the kids enrolled in tap dancing lessons on the weekend. Last week, Connor started crying on the way in. I took him for ice cream instead and told Daisy that the boys tap class was cancelled until further notice. Oh and on Thursdays, we're going to Salsa class. She thinks it'll help us reconnect."

Booth laughed. Sweets was intuitive when it came to other people's relationships but clueless when it came to his own. He did pity Sweets. At least all Bones made him do was practice with her at the shooting range occasionally.

By 6pm, Michael was fully dressed and sat regarding Christine in his art studio as he began moving his pencil over a blank canvas. She sat facing him on the other side of the room on a stool where he had placed her before sitting behind his canvas ready to create a 'master piece' as he had put it. Earlier that morning they had both feasted on Spanish omelettes and a fruit salad that Christine had thrown together whilst Michael had been tossing eggs in the frying pan showing off. They had eaten on the large sofa whilst watching reruns of _Friends_. Jack had given the security company hell when they had arrived after lunch but was now satisfied that his home was once again secure with the added measure of the patrol car stationed outside. Now he and Angela and their three daughters were out running errands and shopping for groceries leaving Michael and Christine alone in the big family home that was once again a fortress. The leaves on the large Oak trees that surrounded the family home shook in the wind and the sky began to settle into a deep blue as the street lamps were beginning to light. A large corner lamp as well as a lamp on Michael dresser cast the attic in a warm glow.

"Lift your chin slightly", Michael intrusted Christine.

"A little bossy, aren't we", she shot him a look from the corner of her eye and she saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

"Portraits aren't easy I'll have you know."

"You're not doubting your abilities this late in the game are you Mikey?" She teased and he saw a faint glimmer in her brilliant blue eyes.

"I just don't want you complaining afterwards."

"Hey, I'm not promising anything."

She went silent for a while and allowed him to work. She still didn't know how she had let him talk her into sitting for s portrait but in the end he had twisted her arm and here they were, sat alone in the spacious attic with his pencils and paints and hundreds of brushes all laid out around him whilst he perched on a stool with a large canvas in front of him which he was focussing all of his concentration on. His dark brows occasionally knitted together and his hazel eyes squinted as he continually glanced in her direction before returning his gaze back to the portrait. She tried not to blush as she felt his gaze seductively stroking her skin as he added detail to what he was drawing. A few times they caught each other straight in the eye only to swiftly turn away and discard the moment. Christine couldn't stop thinking about the previous night. A month ago she didn't even know Michael. Not really anyway. It was strange to think that now he was someone who had become a sort of permanent fixture in her life and she didn't understand why it had taken eighteen years for them to be friends. _Friends_, is that what they were? It felt like something more to her but she couldn't speak for Michael and he was hard to read. He had always seemed confident and sometimes cold. A strong figure and everything seemed to bounce of him. He had always made her feel weak and inadequate. But now, she was seeing who he really was for the first time. He was kind and caring. When he looked at her, it was as if he was seeing her and only her. They could be in a crowded room but when she felt his gaze on her, it was electric and heated her up from the inside. Just thinking about him, she could feel her skin prickle and she closed her eyes and tried to think of something else. Someone may want to murder her. No - something else - psychology. Yes that was a safe topic. Her paper on Conceptual and Historical Issues in Psychology was due next week and she hadn't even started it yet. She had all of her notes which would have to aid her as she was unable to visit the campus library. Maybe she could ask Sweets. Surely a visit to the F.B.I Building would be considered safe? She would go on Monday morning and pick his brains.

"You look like you're in deep though over there." Michael observed with a smirk. She began to relax.

"Just thinking about my paper that's due next week."

"Really? You're thinking about your paper?"

"What should I be thinking about?" But she instantly regretted that question.

"How about last night"? He stopped what he was doing and sat up straighter as he regarded her. Christine cleared her throat.

"What about last night?"

"I –

He was cut off by the sound of footsteps on the landing below them.

"What was that?" Christine stood from her position on her stool and began to move closer to Michael.

"It's probably just Mom and Dad back with the groceries."

"I don't think so Michael. When I spoke to Pip a while ago, she said they were staying out for dinner and that they'd be back around eight."

Michael's expression turned solemn. "Wait here." He began to move towards the door that directly led onto the winding staircase connected to the landing but before he had taken two steps Christine had a firm grasp on his hard bicep and she yanked him back none to gently and silently closed the door, the lock sounding as she quickly turned it and secured them both in the spacious attic.

"What are you doing?" He was more than a little surprised at her take charge behaviour but he was also a little inappropriately, considering the circumstances, turned on.

"Did you forget about the picture of you and that lovely little caption?" She hissed at him.

"Christine calm down. The alarm system is up and running and the patrol car is out front."

She rounded on him and he took a slight step back. He knew he shouldn't be but he was slightly amused by her sudden fierceness. "The alarm system was up and running last night but that didn't stop someone from breaking in." Before she could continue they heard the footsteps nearing. Christine yanked out her cell and dialled the number of the patrol car outside that's Booth had insisted she take down. She waited for the tired sounding officer to answer before she whispered into the receiver that she and Michael could hear footsteps.

By now she knew that whoever it was, they were halfway up the attic stairs and she began to back away still clutching to Michael as her shield. He slid a battered looking baseball bat from out of the umbrella stand behind the door and lifted it up to eye level whilst signalling Christine to be quiet and to get behind him. They both waited anxiously until finally the footsteps were loud and fast and there was a sudden banging on the door.

"This is Officer Joel Hardman. Are you two ok in there?"

Christine and Michael looked at each other puzzled. As a precaution, Michael still held the bat in place but opened the attic door and sure enough the patrol officer who had arrived this morning was stood before them.

"Did you see anyone?" Asked Christine a little more aggressively than she had meant to.

"No." Officer Hardman returned his gun to his holster and moved into the room. "Did you folks hear something?"

"We heard footsteps on the landing and the stairs leading to attic." Michael answered for both of them.

Ten minutes later, officer Hardman and the officer that had come to relieve him had searched the house and assured Christine and Michael that it was all clear and that the alarm system was up and running and all doors and windows were secure. Both men bid them goodnight and officer Hardman left for the night whilst the younger office Sellers got comfortable in his patrol car for the evening. Michael handed Christine a mug of herbal tea where she sat perched on a stool at the breakfast bar like she had that morning.

"Either we're imagining things or someone has a very clever way of getting in and out of this house Michael."

"I don't know Chris. Maybe it wasn't footsteps that we heard."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I don't know. But what I do know is that you don't have to worry about this. I will not let anything happen to you."

She placed her cup down in front of her. "And I won't let anything happen to you Mikey."

They both smiled and then the moment turned intense. They had both been ignoring the obvious all day. They were attracted to each other. Michael held Christine's gaze as he stood beside where she sat on the tall stool.

"I've been wanting to do this for a while." He told her.

"What?" She was about to go on but something told her not to. Instead she sat paralysed as he leaned slightly forward, took her soft face in his warm hands and slowly, their lips met. At first it was a gentle kiss but Christine wanted more so she slowly parted her lips and felt the warm invasion of Michael's tongue. His rough thumbs stroked her soft cheeks and she let her arms slide around his narrow hips and felt her way up the planes of his back to his broad shoulders. He slowly moved one of his hands around the back of her neck to pull her lips more firmly against his own and with his other arm, he moved it to snake around her small waist and their kiss grew hungry. Christine almost felt light headed and a deep groan seemed to escape Michael's throat. He pulled her closer and crushed her soft curves against the hard contours of his body. His mind and body seemed to be going wild at the sweet taste of Christine Booth but before he could let his mind wander the sound of the front door and the alarm being deactivated jolted them apart and they were left trying to catch their breath, with Michael running his hands through his hair not knowing where to look whilst Christine held her trembling fingers to her throat, her skin flushed pink with desire.

"It's only us", called Angela. "We felt bad so we got take out and brought you two some". She ambled into the kitchen along with the rest of the family and Christine and Michael both jumped off their stools and away from each other like opposing magnets both trying to look guilt free, their breath still a little ragged.

Out on the back patio, across the lawn and behind the slightly over grown brambles and shrubs, a dark figure watched the close knit family scramble around the dining table reaching for takeout cartons and laughing amongst their selves. After witnessing the passionate display by Michael Hodgins and Christine Booth their gut wrenched with hate and blood thirst and slowly settled, knowing that soon, they would both be dead.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So sorry for not updating in ages guys! I've had some stuff going on and I found this chapter really hard to get through for some reason but all of your comments urging me to finish have spurred me on! Ok, so I did actually write an Author's Note for my last Chapter and edited it before putting it up but I must have forgotten to save the changes hence the lack of authors note and all of the annoying little spelling errors. So my sincerest apologies to the devoted readers of this story, who I really appreciate by the way All of your lovely reviews are really inspiring and some touching. I often have a little giggle reading your reviews especially when some of you are talking about your theories or talking about the different goings on in the chapters. It is still crazy to me that people across the world are reading what I sit humbly typing on my laptop, so thank you so much for those and please keep them coming! So as I didn't get to explain the last chapter, the reason for the stand still in between chapters 5 and 6 was that I had started a new job so things were pretty crazy there and then I know there's been an even longer standstill this time. Oooops sorry! Anyway I am back and I have actually been planning out the chapters and I have the last chapter of this story half written already and I must say, I am super excited to get to the last chapter! Anyway, here is Chapter 7. It is again, very late – my sincerest apologies – I have had a busy few weeks! I hope you guys like it and as always, please review and let me know what you thought. And as I keep forgetting every chapter, here's a little shout out to RomanticAngel92 who inspired me with this story's idea in the first place – and if you are into Glee go check out her stuff. Happy reading,**

**Love CreativeAngel89.**

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Christine wrapped the thick noodles she had been staring at for the past five minutes around her set of chop sticks and shoved them into her mouth forcing her to chew and smile. Across the dining table, it looked like Michael was trying to do the same thing with his sesame chicken. Booth had arrived twenty minutes ago as they were sitting down to eat and of course Angela and Jack had insisted that he join them after his long day of interviews and his previous night of no sleep. Christine didn't mind dining with her father, in fact it was a rare occurrence now that she was away at college – or at least she was supposed to be away at college – what had perturbed her and Michael was the fact that Angela had insisted he stayed the night. Her mother was pulling another all-nighter at the lab and her father looked exhausted so Christine really shouldn't have been so surprised when he had agreed. Of course that meant that she would be bunking with chatty Pippa and her father had insisted Michael have his own bed and that he was happy to sleep in the attic. Christine reached for her Pepsi and took a swig trying not to look too disappointed that her father would be disturbing her sleeping arrangements. Or was he? She was confused. Sleeping in the same bed as Michael was becoming a pattern and she had had two peaceful nights of sleep when he had been lying next to her, but who said they would be doing it again? He had kissed her, but what did that mean? She could still feel his lips on hers and relived the feeling of being wrapped up in his strong arms but she had no idea whether it meant that Michael had feelings for her or whether he merely found her attractive. She sighed and took in another mouthful of noodles and spent the rest of dinner making polite conversation and trying avoiding Michael's gaze that was so intense, she almost felt as if he was caressing her very core.

* * *

Christine brushed her teeth and combed through her hair before changing into her pyjamas that consisted of a pair of silk shorts and matching button up camisole that were a midnight blue colour with vertical cream stripes. Her white fluffy slippers adorned her feet and she decided to slip into her black satin kimono style dressing gown, feeling a chill as the biting wind rustled the browning leaves of another of the large oak trees in the Hodgins yard, this one stood looming outside of Pippa's bedroom window, set against the deep blue September night sky.

She slipped off her silver ring which was an exact replica of the one her mother wore. The band formed a dolphin, one side was its detailed head and the other formed its tail and Christine smiled as her mother's face appeared in her thoughts. It had been a touching gift that Temperance Brennan had presented to her daughter on the eve of her sixteenth birthday. The one that had ringed her Grandmother Joy Keenan's finger was now worn by her mother always, being the only thing Temperance had left of the woman that was snatched from her life too soon. Her Mother had told her that she thought it appropriate Christine wear one too as a way to include in her life, the Grandmother she never knew. Christine placed the ring on Pippa's nightstand, admiring her blood red nails as she did so. Pippa had insisted they give each other manicure/pedicures which Christine wouldn't have minded had it not been for Pippa's somewhat unconventional taste in colours. She liked the crimson covering her finger nails but she couldn't say the same about the alternating green, yellow and orange that covered her toe nails so she was glad that they were safely tucked into her slippers. When she had looked at them, the sight had reminded her of some sort of fungal infection but she had quickly hidden her distaste when she noticed the proud beam on Pippa's face. She had then been ordered to use electric blue polish to do Pippa's pedicure but had chosen an understated pearly pink for the sixteen year olds fingernails that were bitten down almost to the quick, which was after she had tidied up her friends ratty cuticles.

After turning down her duvet and plumping the pillows on the thin mattress that was positioned on the floor parallel to Pippa's own bed, Christine remembered that she had left her toiletry bag in Michael's bathroom, so she slipped across the landing and quietly rapped on Michael's door. She was expecting to be greeted by the sight of Michael's handsome face, but instead, the door flung open to reveal her father stood before her in his white vest and boxer shorts.

"Dad!"

"Is something wrong?" Booth's eyebrows knitted together as he regarded his daughter with a curious expression.

"Of course not. Where's Michael?" She had tried to make that last question sound like an afterthought but she knew she had failed miserably when her father's gaze turned calculating.

"He's upstairs in his 'Art Studio'", Christine rolled her eyes as her father took out his air quotation marks to mock Michaels use of the attic. Booth smirked, clearly amused by his own lame quip. "Why? What do you want with Michael anyway? Knocking on his bedroom door in the middle of the night – is there something I should know about?"

Christine knew she was blushing but she refused to give in to her embarrassment and instead made an amused snorting sound and lightly pushed past her father into Michael bedroom. "Don't be ridiculous Dad, I left my toiletry bag in his bathroom and I came to get it. End of story."

"If you say so." Booth, obviously satisfied with her answer, for now, slumped onto Michael's bed ready to nod off.

"I do say so", Christine answered from the bathroom where she gathered up her things and then shut off the fluorescent lighting. She padded back into Michaels room, but before leaving she planted a quick goodnight kiss on her father's rough cheek.

"Your Mother called to check on you", he murmured, bleary eyed. "She said to tell you goodnight and that she will be driving up tomorrow. She misses you already, I can tell."

"I can't wait. I miss her too."

"Goodnight", she told her father, whose heavy lids were already shut. She exited the room quietly, switching off the soft lighting as she closed the door behind her. She gazed longingly up towards the attic staircase before she let out a wistful sigh. She had never felt such a strong urge as the one that appeared when she thought about being close to Michael and she felt slightly irritated at having to share Pippa's room and not his.

The pretty teenager lay on her stomach on top of her duvet with slim black wires that belonged to her ear phones just visible through her head of thick dark curls as she sang along to something that sounded slightly out of tune as she multitasked, typing on her laptop as she went. Christine smiled and sat beside Pippa, whom she wished had a slightly better singing voice since she insisted on singing along to every track she played. After tapping at her phone to check her emails her own lids began to feel heavy and she gently removed one of Pippa's earphones, slightly startling her as she did.

"Sorry Pip. I'm kind of tired so I'm going to hit the sack".

"Ok, me too. I'll get the light". As Christine tried to position herself comfortably on her mattress, Pippa closed her laptop and went to turn out the light. Christine tried to fall asleep but it was proving difficult. She tried counting backwards from one hundred but once she reached thirteen she realised that idea wasn't going to work. She turned on her side and flipped her pillow over to the cold side just as her phone buzzed gently. She reached for it and saw a message from Michael. She smiled as she read his words.

_This kinda sucks but your Dad scares me so I guess I'll have to stay put. My beds empty without you sleeping next to me. Goodnight. x_

Christine felt a warm tingle in the pit of her stomach and smiled. At least now she knew Michael was more than just attracted to her. With that knowledge she dosed off and didn't open her eyes again until she heard a deafening smash that jolted her awake. She sat up and tried to focus when she heard another thud. She instantly threw off her covers and stood spurred on my adrenalin. She opened Pippa's bedroom door and almost collided with Michael. His bedroom door was already open which meant her father had also been disturbed and was downstairs. Michael took her hand and they both raced into the kitchen and through to the dining room and stopped at the sight before them. The glass doors leading onto the back patio where both smashed and the patio was destroyed. The wood floor outside had been partially ripped up and the plant pots where all smashed with dirt and crushed flowers littering parts of the patio floor that were still intact. The cushions adorning the chairs were slashed with the wrought iron table still were it was supposed to be but the matching parasol had been thrown to the other side of the garden. Booth was stood before the patio table and as Christine moved closer she saw that a message had been scrawled in red spray paint I'M WATCHING YOU. She knew her father was saying something and she could feel Michael tugging at her arm but Booth's words sounded fuzzy and she could only follow his gaze. She peered down to her feet and realised she was barefoot and judging from the amount of blood she must have walked over the broken glass and cut herself. The feeling of searing pain began to make its way to her senses just before she felt light headed and then everything went black.

When she opened her eyes she saw Michael's blurry face staring back at her before it was replaced by her fathers and then someone she didn't recognise and she blinked harder as if that would help her know the strangers face.

"Christine, my name is Sam, Can you hear me?"

She managed a feeble "Yes." Her voice sounded far away to her own ears but Sam seemed satisfied. She was a pretty woman in her mid-thirties with dark brown hair and Christine noticed she was wearing a dark jacket and blue shirt underneath. She also wore white latex gloves and it took Christine a moment to realise Sam was a paramedic.

Sam looked to Booth who stood over Christine. "She's going to be fine agent Booth and the blood made it look worse than it really is, she doesn't even need stitches."

With that Christine felt someone else tugging at her foot and as she raised her head she noticed another medic bandaging up her left foot in which the sharp pain had been replaced with a dull ache.

"The patio?" was all she could manage but Michael understood and took her hand as he knelt next to the couch where she lay.

"The police are reviewing the video footage the security camera picked up but all that's visible is a dark figure, they can't get an I.D".

"I want to sit up". The other paramedic had finished with her foot and was now packing up her bandages and scissors. Michael took both her hand and helped manoeuvre her into a comfortable sitting position but instead of taking a seat by her side he stayed where he was knelt before her searching her face. Christine could only imagine that she was wearing a blank expression because that was how she felt inside. A normal person might be in a state of shock or panic maybe fearful of tonight's events or angry but Christine was all out of shock or anger or fear. She just wanted to sleep and pretend none of this was even happening. A few minutes later when the police drove away, with exception of the patrol car stationed outside, and the paramedics were making their way down the front path, Booth came towards his daughter – at which point Christine finally got her bearings enough to process what he was saying and the notice that the rest of the Hodgins family sat in the living room with various beverages and that the patio doors were now boarded up.

"How are you feeling sweetheart?"

"I'm ok Dad; I just want to go to sleep".

"OK, I have to go and talk to the officer on patrol and find out why he can't do his job properly. Michael can you help her upstairs?"

"Sure".

As Booth stalked out of the front door Michael put his arm around Christine's waist and hoisted her off the couch. She was about to hobble on her bandaged foot when she felt her legs go from under her as Michael swept her up as if she weighed nothing and carried her up the stairs without any difficulty. He didn't break a sweat and his breathing remained the same. She was still surprised by his strength when he was lowering her into his bed.

"What are you doing? My Dad's downstairs, I can't sleep in your bed"

He chuckled. "Relax Chris, he's sleeping on the couch and for all intents and purposes I'm sleeping in the attic."

"But where are you really sleeping?" She asked as he gently covered her up with the heavy duvet.

"Right next to you", he smiled. He switched off the lamp and climbed in next to her. She was about to try and awkwardly turn to face him without catching her sore foot but instead he quickly circled her waist and snugly pulled her against him. They were so close she could feel his nose buried in her hair and she once again felt some peace before she closed her eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Hi everyone! I'm back! All your reviews have been lovely so thank you. I owe you all a huge apology for the very very very long delay with the next chapter but I have been really ill and have moved house twice! But, Christine and Michael are finally back in my new chapter. Hope you enjoy. As always read and review with your thoughts. xoxo**_

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Although Christine was sleeping, the shockingly bright light of the early morning still hurt her eyeballs and she quickly turned under the covers only to find the solid wall of Michael's chest. He shifted slightly in his sleep and then reached out and pulled her closer. This felt like a perfect moment for Christine and she relaxed into his embrace and began to drift off once again. She wasn't sure how long had passed until she was once again awoken.

"Christine! Wake up."

Her eyes flew open and settled on the blurry figure of her mother. "Mom?"

"Yes. Are you ok? I was worried about you". Her mother's face settled in a frown and she perched herself on the end of the bed.

"I'm ok Mom." Christine hoisted herself into a sitting reached out to wrap her arms around Temperance Brennan.

"Your foot; your father told me what happened. I don't want to you to stay here. Whoever is doing this knows where you are. I'm taking you to a hotel".

"That's not necessary Mom."

"No arguments Christine. I'll be downstairs waiting for you."

With that her Mother swept out of the room and she listened for her footsteps retreat down the stairs before she remembered the last time she had been aware, Michael had been sleeping next to her. She was about to get out of bed when the on-suite bathroom door flung open and he parked himself on the bed in front of Christine where her mother had sat. "That was close." He rubbed his eyes and stared off into his room. "I guess you're leaving…"

"I don't want to go."

"I don't want you to go. Maybe your Mom is right though. It would be safer at a hotel."

"I don't know. It seems like this crazy person is everywhere."

"Well it doesn't sound like your Mom is going to take no for an answer. But maybe I could swing by for a visit?"

Christine giggled. "Why? Will you miss me?"

Michael's face relaxed into a smile and he pulled Christine forward to plant a kiss on her forehead. "Not if I follow you there"

"Ok, deal." Christine smiled and then forced herself away from him to grab her clothes and then disappeared into the bathroom to change.

When she reappeared she noticed that Michael had also gotten dressed and was in the middle of lacing up his sneaker. "I was thinking." He said as he tied the knot and stood up. "How are you going to survive at the hotel without your own toothbrush?"

She was confused and checked her toiletry bag that she had tucked under her arm. "But… my toothbrush is right here."

Michael came towards her and smiled. He took the toothbrush from her and placed it back in the ceramic cup on his sink in the bathroom. "No you don't. I guess I'll just have to bring it to you."

Finally catching on, Christine giggled and rolled her eyes. "Very inventive. Shall we go downstairs for coffee?"

"In a minute." Michael smirked as he closed the gap between them and gently circled his arms around Christine's waist. He let out a slow breath as he closed his eyes and brought his brow forward to meet hers. She ran her hands through his hair before resting them on the back of his warm tanned neck and he kissed her button nose before turning his attention to her soft lips. Christine's insides tingled with pleasure and before she could stop herself she let out a slight moan as his hands gripped her hips more firmly. His eyes met with hers and they both seemed to lose control. He held her cheek in his warm palm and his lips traced from her jaw line down the flushed skin of her neck but that wasn't enough for either of them. He hoisted her onto his strong hips and moved until her back was against his bedroom wall and his breath grew ragged as did her own. She reached for the bottom hem of his t-shirt and lifted it over his head to expose his smooth chest and impressive six pack where a thin dark trail of hair stretched down his belly button and into the waist of his jeans. She ran her trembling hands over his chest and down to his belly through half lidded eyes and he pulled the loose neck of her sweater down over one arm to reveal a slim black bra strap and the flesh of her shoulder which he gently caressed with his lips, sending her so wild she could barely think. She was about to take the initiative and remove her own top when she heard footsteps and she quickly came to her senses and pushed away from Michaels chest lowering her feet to the floor, her knees almost buckling. Colour flooded his cheeks as well as hers and they both looked in opposite directions with Michael scrambling for his t-shirt to slip back into. Christine took a deep breath and tried to gather herself before giving Michael a pointed look and disappearing out of his room and down the stairs where Brennan had been patiently waiting for her. She was so wound up she barely heard any of what her mother said and managed to offer a feeble goodbye to the line-up of Hodgins women in the kitchen and her uncle Jack before she gratefully took her exit.

On the way to the hotel in her mother's car, she closed her eyes and pretended to sleep to avoid having to string together a coherent sentence whilst her senses still buzzed with excitement and disbelief at what she had been about to do with Michael Hodgins!

Christine was the first to explore the modest suite as her mother accepted their bags and tipped the young porter. By the large bay window sat an elegant coral settee with a matching chair and oak coffee table set out with a china vase of white and pink gerberas and a floral tea set next to a fancy box of tissues and a stack of antique coasters. The wood floors were adorned with various chic looking rugs and as Christine pushed open the double doors off to her left she was greeted by the sight of a large double bed decorated with gold and cream striped bedding and adorned with several plushy pillows. She couldn't resist the urge to throw herself onto them and her mother smiled from the doorway.

"I'm glad to see you're making yourself at home. I'll take the bedroom on the other side of the suite." Temperance Brennan came forward and set down her daughter's bag before disappearing into the other room to accept a phone call from Cam.

Christine sat up on the comfy bed and shrugged out of her jacket and her boots. She retrieved the bag her mother had set down and reached for her phone but she was disappointed to find no message from Michael. She lowered herself into the armchair next to her bed and grabbed the TV remote to operate the flat screen attached to the wall facing her bed but after flicking through several channels she realised nothing was going to be able to take her mind off Michael and the feel of his strong chest beneath her palms. Just as she started to relive the whole crazy thing she heard a knock at their door and wandered into the other room to find her mother inviting Michael into their suite.

"Christine forgot her tooth brush." He offered feebly but Temperance Brennan had never been one to pick up on social subtleties and she smiled seeming to accept the lame excuse.

"It was kind of you to bring it by Michael. Come in. Would you like some tea?"

"No thank you, I just finished a coffee in the car."

"Well, I'm actually glad you're here Michael. Cam found something on the remains. Would it be putting you out to ask you to stay here with Christine whilst I'm gone?"

Michael quickly looked to Christine before addressing her mother. "Of course not. Take your time."

"I'm very grateful Michael. I promise I wouldn't leave unless it was important but this could be the breakthrough we need. I'll be an hour or two, tops!"

Christine smiled. "Don't worry Mom its fine. We're safe here, right?"

"Of course, there's a double lock on the door and the staff have been instructed not to bother us. Security is on alert and there's a patrol car outside."

"Then I guess I'll see you later."

With that Brennan swept from the room and a minute later Michael and Christine heard the elevator ping after which left an awkward and heavy silence in the room.

"Christine, about earlier…" Michael began but something had come over Christine and she rushed forward and crashed hard into his chest almost knocking his off his feet.

"I don't want to talk", she said placing her finger softly to his lips before she crushed her own lips against his.

He seemed surprised but he didn't complain and instead let her lead him towards her bedroom. This time she was in control and she knew exactly what she wanted. She scanned her eyes over his body before she gently pushed his jacket over his arms, letting it fall to his feet. She kissed him once again, pausing only to remove various items of his clothing as well as her own. Once they were both stripped to their underwear, Michael followed Christine onto the soft covers and she closed her eyes and sighed as she felt his weight on top of her. Through moans and sighs and ragged breaths they removed the last of their clothing and when Michael finally entered her, Christine almost shattered but instead she squeezed her eyes shut and dug her nails into his flesh to steady herself. Michael kissed her closed eyelids and gently pushed a lock of hair that had strayed over her cheek before beginning his gentle thrusting. Christine opened her eyes and they stayed with his. She wrapped her legs around his hips and fought for some type of control but he was pushing her further over the edge. His steady pace inside her grew faster and deeper spurred on by dirty words of encouragement that shocked her even as she whispered them in his ear. Finally with one last thrust they both shattered and he collapsed on top of her. She let out a sigh and held on to him.

Twenty minutes later as Christine lay in Michael's arms, her cell phone rang and he reluctantly released his hold on her whilst she reached towards the bedside cabinet where it lay. She looked at the caller ID.

"It's Rachel", she said aloud. "Hello?"

"Christine… It's Rachel", Christine could hear panic in her friends voice and she immediately sat up.

"Rachel, what's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry Christine but if you don't do what he says, he's going to kill me…"


End file.
